


From Porcelain, to Ivory, to Steel

by Shortsandramblings



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Older Man/Younger Woman, Ramsay is his own warning, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 118,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shortsandramblings/pseuds/Shortsandramblings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa has 5 rules:<br/>1. Don’t say or do anything above the absolute minimum.<br/>2. Don’t create links between you and anything.<br/>3. Don’t stay in the same place longer than five months.<br/>4. Don’t attract attention.<br/>5. Don’t ever trust anyone. Especially a man.</p><p>Unfortunately, unless she finds cash soon, she might have to break rule 3. That’s when one of the women she works for, Shae, comes in and presents her with a possible answer. Shae’s solution has 3 rules:</p><p>First – Get her ‘donation’, usually in an envelope. – Do nothing else until then. Then it was all about up-selling yourself, getting more for your services.</p><p>Second – Make him believe he is an Adonis incarnate. Even if he wasn’t likely to inspire arousal. Which meant, some way or another, discreetly lube up.</p><p>Third – always use a condom.</p><p>- * Main inspiration for work (apart from ASOIAF): The Master by Kresley Cole</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 - ... just another quite night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShipMaester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipMaester/gifts), [Tommyginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/gifts).



> This fic is purely for amusement purposes – not profit  
> I own nothing
> 
> Has been inspired by The Master by Kresley Cole in the premise as well as certain scenes but characters have been developed/written more in link with ASOIAF characters.

 

_Fuck ... mom is definitely turning in her grave right now..._

 

 

As Sansa rode the elevator to the penthouse of the ritzy King’s Gate Hotel, she couldn’t help but chew her fingernails, panic and dread rising within her.

 

_I am really about to let some weirdo have sex with me? For money?_

 

The elevator jerked to a stop, indicating her arrival... _to my doom..._

 

As she stepped into the entrance hallway, she looked around at the luxury of the place. This penthouse was one of the largest and most expensive in Kings Landing. Who in their right mind would spend that much money on a hotel room? – _Clearly first customer is a little cray-cray._

Sansa couldn’t help but sigh, and feel the dread coming back; she hadn’t been this close to this amount of extravagance in over four years.

Other than his extravagant taste, she didn’t know much about her client. Apparently he was some kind of businessman from Storm’s End, here for a week to close a deal. And let’s not forget the most important bit: that he’d been vouched for by sister agencies all over Westeros and Essos. In other words: he was quite the _hobbyist_ , a routine user of escorts.

Tempted to bolt, Sansa pulled out her phone to call Shae. She was a [Lorath](http://gameofthrones.wikia.com/wiki/Lorath) immigrant, and a high-class escort; Sansa was her cleaning lady. She thought Sansa’s current job was a waste: a red-head was really rare and quite in demand, ‘ _especially with that porcelain skin and that doll face’_ – _Yeah, yeah_...

When Shae answered, Sansa blurted in a whisper: “I can’t do this, this was a mistake.” As she began pacing in the lobby.

 

The lorathy accent purred back in her ear: “Of course you can. You don’t understand how jealous I am! I wish I could be there. If this man is renting the penthouse for a week, imagine how rich he is! Only my Lannister clients have ever matched that!”

 

The client – the _hobbyst_ – had booked Shae, but she’d had a reaction to Botox. Thinking she would be fine she hadn’t cancelled. A big no-no in the escort business.

 

“If my eyes weren’t swollen...”

“Shae... I can’t do this. I’m not at this point yet. No matter how much money this guy has.” Sansa insisted on the phone. But in the back of her mind, she could hear the voices whispering: wasn’t she? Yesterday she could’ve sworn she had seen Damon.

In Kings Landing.

Sansa had been riding the bus home from a cleaning gig when she had noticed a tall, fair-haired man stepping out of a store at the edge of Flea Bottom. Ramsay’s right hand man. If he was here it meant that Ramsay was probably here as well.

And if Ramsay or any of his henchmen were here, she needed to flee to a new city soon... very soon. But first she needed money.

 

“You make it sound so horrible” Shae pouted. “You’re going to do great. You have the balls, and the determination, and that’s half the battle!”

When Sansa stayed silent, Shae continued in an insistent tone: “You’ll have inquiries from the agency site before you know it.”

Shae had gotten the web-guy for Chataya’s to create a makeshift page for Sansa, by promising him an HR. _Hand release_. – Shae loved her job’s lingo.

 

“You shouldn’t have bothered with the web page.” Sansa chastised her. She planned to only do this once... _twice_ at most.

 

Ignoring her, Shae replied: “You only have a couple more minutes to be on time. Take a deep breath, remember the three key points, and you’ll be fine.”

First – Get her ‘donation’, usually in an envelope. – Do _nothing_ else until then. Then it was all about up-selling yourself, getting more for your _services_.

Second – Make him believe he is an Adonis incarnate. Even if he wasn’t likely to inspire arousal. Which meant, some way or another, discreetly lube up. – Sansa hoped that the lack of sex for the last four years, and her libido being in a haywire would help in this department.

Third – always use a condom.

 

After mentally going over Shae’s escort rules, Sansa went over her own. The ones she had created four years ago, and had never broken.

1\. Don’t say or do anything above the absolute minimum.

2\. Don’t create links between you and anything.

3\. Don’t stay in the same place longer than five months.

4\. Don’t attract attention.

5\. Don’t ever trust anyone. Especially a man.

 

Without extra funds, rule 3 looked like it might be put to the test.

 

“Trust me, Aly, with your business savvy, you’re going to do great”

_Savvy? Really_? Although Sansa cleaned six houses per week, five of them gave her shit pay because they thought she was an undocumented worker.

“Just have fun. It doesn’t have to feel like work. Your waxing will probably be more uncomfortable than your date.” – _Well that’s reassuring....not_.

_But_... “Its... its been a while since I’ve slept with anyone.”

After pause, Shae asked: “How long?”

“Four years.”

Earlier pause turned into silence.

 

“We’ll discuss that later. For now, remember: sex is like riding a bike.”

 

Sansa turned back towards the elevator: “ _fuck_. I can’t do this. This was a huge mistake.”

Shae sighed: “Ok... I wasn’t going to do this but you leave me no choice: my record for one night is twenty grand cash, plus a generous tip.”

Sansa stopped cold.

Twenty. Grand.

With that she could leave as soon as she had passed her exam, onto the next phase of her life. When Sansa finally was able to speak, she sighed: “Well seems like I’m off to fuck the wizard.” – _Cant be worse than Ramsay in any case. Right_?

“Thats the spirit! Got get ‘im!”

 

Disconnecting the call, Sansa turned to check her appearance one last time in the lobby’s mirror.

Dress: warp, a little understated, in case he wanted to take her out, but still showed off her curves.

Make-up: in place, maybe a little understated for what she was about to do... or _who_ she was about to do...

Hair: long and shinny

Conclusion: _If I was a horny businessman, I would do me_...

 

Checking the time on her phone, Sansa sighed: _Two minutes_...

 

She quickly put it back in her purse, straightened herself and rang the doorbell.

 


	2. Chapter 2 - ... just a friendly chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa steps through the doors...

 

A few moments after Sansa had rung the doorbell, it opened, revealing an older man, probably early-fifties, white-grey hair, and a beard. He was wearing simple dark clothes, but Sansa suspected that they actually cost quite a bit. The colour made him look more severe, and made his brown eyes stand-out.

Sansa was a bit miffed when she noticed the wedding ring – _he could at least try to hide his infidelity_... but was somewhat reassured that he at least looked in shape – actually quite handsome-ish - and wasn’t straight-out leering at her.

Actually, he was looking at her with the most puzzled expression. He even glanced behind her, as if he expected someone else to be there.

“It’s just me”, Sansa said, surprised how casual her tone was, compared to the pounding of her heart.

“And who exactly is ‘me’?”

 

Sansa blinked. _What...?_

 

“Ahhh... Alayne. I came from the agency. Shae was supposed to come tonight, but unfortunately she had to call in sick.”

Clearly from the man’s face, her response was not what he had expected. His eyes bulged out and his brows rose. Instead of commenting, he opened the door wider, and with a gesture from his hand, introduced her into the penthouse.

“Please wait here.”

Sansa only gave a quick nod before the man disappeared down a corridor.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 _A whole week in Kings Landing_...

 

By the New Gods, Stannis wanted to kill himself. He had even been here 24 hours and he was already wondering why he was in this Go-for-saken city. He _hated_ Kings Landing.

 

He had only come, instead of Robert, because his older brother had foolishly broken his leg in a hunting accident. – _Typical Robert_!

So now Stannis was here to close several business deals, including discussing certain matters with Targaryen Corporation. – Not that he truly minded the work. Business was his world. Plus, he got on with his distant cousins Rhaegar and Daenerys, and Rhaegar’s third child, Jon, the one from his second wife, had actually interned under him.

What did trouble him though was leaving Shireen alone for a week. Well leaving her with Marya and her boys. He had never been gone from Dragonstone more than a couple of days ... three at most.

 

Robert had seen this trip as an opportunity for Stannis. For his younger brother to ‘ _let loose_ ’; a week away from his eight year old daughter would help him ‘ _feel like a man again_ ’.

 

He heard Robert’s booming voice in his head: _“You just need to get laid...”_

 

A cough behind him brought him back to the present.

Turning around he noticed Davos standing at the edge of his room, frowning, looking rather confused.

Stannis raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

Clearing his throat, his friend shifted uncomfortably, as he said: “There is a young lady here to see you. Said she was sent from the ‘ _agency_ ’, to replace ‘ _Shae_ ’?”

 

 _What the..._?

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

A few minutes after the man had gone down the corridor, he came back with another man closely following him.

Sansa’s heart tripped with panic. “I don’t do that.”

Both men, who were wearing stern faces, frowned further. The other man, younger, replied: “Do what?”

“Two men.” She said, her index pointing from one to the other, as she instinctively retreated a step.

The younger man, again, replied: “This is Davos Seaworth. He is the head of my security and my right hand man.”

 

Relief sailed through Sansa. - Double relief when she realised her client would be the second man. She quickly looked him over.

Mid-thirties, with a full head of thick dark hair, nearly black, a serious face, but handsome [ _\- probably more so_ _if he wasn’t scowling_ ], a tall built body with broad shoulders. His blue eyes were hooded, his gaze penetrating.

He was definitely a WFFF. _Would_ _Fuck for Free_. – Shae’s stupid work lingo popping into her brain.

Sansa couldn’t help but give a soft smile. If she was going to lose her ‘ _escort cherry’_ , might as well be with one that looked this good. – _Though he could smile a little... he’s about to get laid_...

 

“Davos informs me that the ‘ _agency’_ sent you?”

Sansa nodded, keeping her small smile: “That’s right. The agency said you required a tall, slender woman, hopefully exotic. Shae was confirmed. Unfortunately, she had to call in sick. I hope I’m a suitable replacement?” She added with a touch of concern. – _Is that why they look confused._ ‘ _cos I’m not Shae? Not exotic enough_?

Shae had reassured her before her ‘date’ that she had never this client before, so there should be no conflict in that area at least.

 

“When exactly was this ... meeting confirmed?”

Sansa blinked again: “Yesterday, I believe.”

 

There was a long pause before the man gave a curt nod to his right hand man, indicating that he should leave her with just him. _– Finally_...

 

He continued to look her over silently for quite a while before the man grated: “Are you even legal?”

The man’s tone was starting to annoy her.

Trying to emphasise her ‘woman-ness’, Sansa pulled out her ‘Shae-persona’, answering with a soft purr: “And then some.” Whilst she seductively placed her hand on her hip.

 

He looked unmoved.

Shae had talked to her about getting to _yes_ , and getting more from the clients, and Sansa thought she could probably wangle one night out with this guy. But then, was she really ready to take that step? “I can’t change your mind?”

When his expression grew darker, Sansa felt glad that he was about to kick her out – _Isn’t that what I want: an out to this ridiculous evening_?... but then another voice whispered: _yes, but you do need the money... and it wouldn’t be a real hardship to get it from him_...

In a stern voice, he replied: “Sorry. But it would seem not.”

Sansa shrugged: “No worries, your loss.” – _How confident I sound! Like a working-girl pro_.

 

Relieved, she turned towards the door, sauntering away –

\- She thought she heard a hiss behind her. Then the man’s deep voice called out:

“Perhaps I was ... hasty. Stay for a drink.”

 _Has my ass worked in my favour_? Sansa wondered as she turned back again and followed the man further into the penthouse, towards the bar.

 

“I’m Stannis Baratheon.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Alayne Stone.”

“Is that your working name?”

 _My alias_... “That’s what they call me. Or ‘Aly’, if you prefer.”

“What do you drink?”

Sansa pondered on the question, trying to remember the last time she had had a drink. “Um, whatever you are having.”

“Whiskey?” _... probably not_

“White wine will do.”

“You seem uneasy.”

Sansa decided to admit: “I’m a little new to all this.”

The man – Stannis – gave a dry snort: “Pretty sure no escort ever says she’s been at it for awhile.” - _Great... he thinks I’m lying. I am the world shittiest liar_.

 

As he poured their respective drinks, Sansa gave him a more thorough study. Clean-shaven. Skin that looked newly tanned. No laugh-lines. But a bit of a shadow under his eyes. No wedding-ring, or even a tan line on his left finger. - _Well, at least he appears to be single_.

She continued: Firm lips, wide masculine jawline, strong nose and chin. Broad cheekbones. His dark hair was close-cut on the sides, but less so on top. For some reason, Sansa pictured herself running her fingers through it.

After giving her drink, he led her towards the wraparound balcony, and outdoor pool. Behind that the penthouse offered a gorgeous view out on the ocean.

 

“Go take a look. I’ll meet you outside.” Before he left her to go back down the corridor.

Sansa had only time to nod.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Stannis softly cursed himself – _What was that all about_?

 

Why had he asked her to stay for a drink?

 

Of course he should have known when Robert insisted that Stannis could use his ‘regular’ penthouse suite at the King’s Gate Hotel. This was such a Robert thing to do... though he probably wouldn’t have been that surprised if Renly had done something similar...

When Stannis reached the master bedroom he grabbed the phone from his bed. He hoped that Robert had at least the sense not to use Littlefinger’s Agency – any ‘ _activity’_ from that escort service would likely to be known even before any money was exchanged.

 

Robert answered on the first ring, and with no preamble asked: “... Has it arrived yet?”

“By ‘ _it’_ , you mean the girl probably young enough to be your daughter?” Stannis grumbled.

“But probably just as gorgeous... they always are at Chataya’s.” - _Chataya’s_... Well at least his brother had chosen the very discreet agency... none were more careful than Chataya’s. His brother would know.

Robert’s voice boomed once more: “So... what does she look like?”

 

The girl – _Alayne_ – popped into his mind.

 

Robert was right in his assumptions. She was gorgeous. She had actually looked .... _wholesome_... a certain innocence to her; probably a feature that she used to her advantage with most of her customers.

She had made him think of those dolls Shireen played with: beautiful, porcelain skin, high cheekbones, vivid blue eyes and thick auburn hair. Her figure could be described as tall, graceful ... _womanly_.

She had been intriguing enough for him to actually introduce himself... and then had curse himself right after... When Stannis had introduced himself, he had quickly thought about using his brother’s name, but then thought if she was to call someone’s name out, in the throes of passion, he’d rather it be _his name_... definitely _not_ his brother’s.

 

He shook his head, trying to remove the image, as he replied: “She’s ... comely.”

“You’re not going to give me more than that?”

“Let’s go back to the fact that you hired an escort for me!” Stannis gritted through his teeth.

“Oh come on... I told you to see this trip as a small vacation, but I knew you wouldn’t do anything to make it more _relaxing_... so... Well ... see it – her - as a gift, especially to say thank you for replacing me.”

Stannis cursed under his breath. _– Fucking Robert. When will he ever learn_?

“Yea well now I have to get rid of your ‘gift’.”

“Oh, come on Stan. Live a little! For just one night. The money for her should have been placed in the table, in the entrance area. Now have some fun!”

And with that Robert hung up.

 

Stannis cursed again.

 

Then he thought of the different solutions to his problem.

Mentally checking through them, he grumbled when he came to the solution of actually ‘enjoying his gift’, as Robert had put it.

Stannis was definitely attracted to the girl, no doubt about it. Her sweet innocence that had put him off when he had first seen her. But it had somewhat been chattered when she had turned away from him, showing off her lovely curves, and her hair...

... Her hair had sway – twirled- at with the movement of her turning... had shown in the ceiling light...

... He had caught his breath, and then had been unable to stop himself from calling out to her.

 

Unable to get her out of his head, Stannis sighed. – _Well might as well do a quick background check_...

 

He sat at his computer, and went to the Chataya Agency’s website, typing in: _Alayne Stone_.

 

Arriving at her profile, he couldn’t help but loose his breathe once more at the photo presented of her. – It was ... _unusual_. Not something he would think to find on an escort website. He assumed most of the girls would have typical boudoir shots with flattering lighting and risqué lingerie.

Not her...

Instead: it was a photo taken of her back, she was only wearing black boy-shorts that accentuated her curves, she wore no top, and her hair was piled up on top of her head, showing off her neck, and making her look even taller. What made the picture even more ... _enticing_ ... was her face: her head was turned to the side as she gazed in the distance, as if she was deep in thought. As if she was maybe thinking of a lover...

... One couldn’t look at it and not wonder.

Breaking eye contact with the picture, he skimmed over her bio.

 

Looking once more at the photo, Stannis sighed. – _I’m probably going to regret this_...

 


	3. Chapter 3 - ... just a few ground rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Stannis discuss their arrangement.

 

As Sansa looked out onto the bay, sipping on the wine, she recalled the article Shae had sent her to help with her first ‘date’: _Best Ways to Wow your Client_. These included feigning raptured interest in whatever he talked about, the client what always right: his opinion the right one, faking breathless orgasms, making him believe that his ‘ _essence’_ was the best you ever tasted... – _Seriously_?

 

 

Heavy footsteps announced his return, but Sansa didn’t turn around just yet.

She felt him close behind her when his voice broke the silence: “Your picture is ... curious. Makes one wonder what you are thinking about?”

Sansa took another sip of her drink. – So he had looked her up on the agency’s website. She tried to recall what Shae had listed on it, in her fake bio. As for the photo: it had also been chosen by Shae. It was a bit on the artsy side. Sansa remembered her eyes were distant on the photo, because she had been deep in thought – _second thoughts_ – about this whole situation. _Oh... and cursing Ramsay to the Seven Hells_.

Probably realising that Sansa wouldn’t add to his comment, or answer his question, Stannis asked another: “You’re twenty-five?”

_Twenty-two_... Shae had inflated the number to make her seem more experienced – _Ha_!

 

She turned to look at him. The moon shined against his strong features.

“Old enough to know better.”

 

They both stood quietly. Sansa’s gaze had gone back to the ocean, but she could feel his gaze on her. Sansa felt as if he was trying to understand her, trying to place her in a certain category.

“Your skin is pale and you don’t have the accent of the Crownlands. Where are you from?”

Sansa only shrugged in response.

Stannis scoffed: “You don’t care to talk about yourself? That’s a first.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to hear about my boring life. I have an idea: let’s institute a no-personal-questions rule.”

“And you think you can keep yourself from digging about me?” - _... as long as it keeps you from asking questions about me._

“I’ll try and control myself.” Sansa answered sarcastically.

 

Shae’s rules popped into her mind; namely the first rule: her ‘ _donation’_. The money she needed to get out of town.

Clearing her throat, she spoke: “As much as I love this little chat, shouldn’t we be discussing...”

 

He sighed in response. – Sansa couldn’t help but think that he didn’t seem all that enthused by the thought of sleep with her. As if she was a chore more than anything.

 

Stannis gave a curt nod. “Yes. We probably should.” He spoke, as he guided them back inside the penthouse.

 

Once they reached the living room, they stopped, Sansa looked at him expectantly.

 

For a _hobbyist_ , he definitely didn’t look like he was in his element.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Stannis tried to breathe...

 

Could he really go through with this?

 

It was just another _business_ transaction... didn’t Robert always say ‘it’s the oldest trade in the world’?...

_Ha_! - _Just another business transaction my ass_... Stannis wanted to laugh.

He had been in the business world for over fifteen years – this didn’t feel one bit like any of his other business meetings. Not one bit. _Preparation_ and _control_ had always ruled each deal he did... he had always been ready and in control in his meetings... and most of the time they had paid off.

Here, Stannis was like a fish drowning in a new pond. He had no preparation... or any possible previous knowledge... except for the passing comment from Robert... and it certainly didn’t seem like he was in control of anything, much less himself.

 

He looked at the person facing him.

 

_Gods she is beautiful_.

 

Then again he could assume they usually were in this line of work. Yet, as Stannis studied her, she didn’t seem to type of girl that would have sex for money - _Gods how naive am I: is there really a type?_...

But as he looked at her face, he couldn’t deny that there was a certain simplicity and guileless to her. She looked so innocent and fragile; as if, if he touched her, she would shatter.

And those eyes.... those mesmerising blue eyes...

Stannis didn’t know if he would be able look into those eyes ~~as~~ – _if_ \- he were to sleep with her.

 

A part of him couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking behind those big blue eyes? What she had been thinking in that picture? What she was thinking right now?

 

His mind turned on him once more.

Men paid for sex for a number of reasons. – What was his reason apart from the fact that this girl – _woman_ – [ _probably should not refer to her as a girl, it won’t help in any way_...] ... the fact that this _woman_ in front of him had stirred him in a way no else had ever done?

Was it really that bad that it was an escort that stimulated this desire within him?... that he would have to pay her to ... to find... _relief_?

 

 

\- - - - - - - - -

 

Sighing, Stannis finally spoke: “I’ll honestly probably only need you for an hour or so. However, I’d rather not be on the clock... so: how... how much for the night?”

 

Thinking of her earlier discussion with Shae, and the rules, Sansa felt the need to condition: “Before we get started, I would like to say there are a few things I won’t do; not even for all the money in the world.”

“Such as?”

“Bareback... anything bareback is out... And I won’t do anything tied up, or gagged.” Sansa added as she remembered _that_ room in Ramsay’s house that she had stumbled in once.

She also could help but wonder: as a vetted hobbyist he couldn’t be _too_ dangerous. _Right_?

 

“Don’t worry; protection is definitely one of my requirements as well. As for your second stipulation: I’m not one of those BDSM enthusiasts. Sadism really isn’t my thing. [ _Say that to Ramsay_...] To be brutally honest, the intent of tonight is ... is for me to find ... _relief_.” He said as he raked his fingers through his hair. “With any luck, from you. However, I won’t tolerate feigned passion. I’d rather... you... you not find your own _relief_ than pay for mummery.”

_\- So much for_ ‘ _Best Ways to Wow your Client’..._

 

Somehow Sansa managed to give a curt nod: “Understood.”

If he was pleased by her response, he didn’t show it. Instead he replied: “Then I’ll pay you ... ten thousand dragons for the evening.”

Sansa felt her knees about to buckle at the amount. However she remembered Shae repeating how a red-head was a rare commodity – ‘ _especially with that porcelain skin and that doll face’-_ and the fact that Shae’s ‘best’ for a one-night stand was double Stannis’s proposal.

Bringing out the ‘Shae’ in her once more, Sansa answered back: “Make it fifteen, and I’ll find you your _relief_.”

 

He was silent for so long that Sansa worried that she had blown it. - _No pun intended_...

 

However, after what seemed like two life times, he spoke: “Deal.”

 

 

After the money had been exchanged - _in a very awkward fashion_ - they started to move down the corridor, towards the master bedroom. To calm her nerves, Sansa thought once more of Shae, her lorathy voice whispering in Sansa’s ear: ‘ _you’re going to have a gut-check moment, and when you do, ask yourself: would I have sex with this guy for free? If the answer is yes, then why not see the money as a bonus?_ ’

Shae was right : he definitely was a WFFF.

 

 

In any case, Sansa’s situation demanded radical measures. – Nothing this man could do to her would be worse than what Ramsay would do to her if he caught Sansa.

Especially since he was her husband, and Sansa had foiled his plan involving her and had killed his lover.

 


	4. Chapter 4 - ... just like riding a bike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised: Mature warning definitely applies to this chapter.

 

 

They moved into the room silently.

 

When Sansa reached the middle of the room, she stopped and looked around.

The suite had the same level of refinery and exuberance as the rest of the floor. A few commodes against the wall, there was a desk with quite a lot of papers and folders spread out over it – he obviously brought work from the office- , there was also a sofa ... and of course a king-size bed. Sansa quickly looked away from it, her nerves acting up once more. Her eyes shifted to the openings. All the glass doors were open to the softly lit room. The delicate moonlit curtains fluttered in the breeze. The large bay windows allowed a beautiful view onto not only on Blackwater Bay but also of the Red Keep.

After briefly admiring the view, her wandering gaze finally stopped when it reached the other person in the room.

Stannis was taking off his tie and then suit jacket, before neatly putting them away. The whole progress had been done very slowly, with very precise and deliberate movement. Even though she somewhat enjoyed watching him, how careful his actions were, Sansa couldn’t help but wonder: _Was he nervous_?

Sansa couldn’t understand why someone who was such an avid ‘escort lover’ seemed so tense now.

After his jacket had been put away, Stannis turned to her. He looked at her expectantly, as if she were to take the lead, as if she would know what to do.

 

Sansa looked over the room once more. Her eyes skipping the bed. – _Not ready for that just yet_...

 

She then reminded herself that she shouldn’t be ‘inexperienced’ in this sort of situation, as an escort she should know what to do. That she was playing the femme fatale – _Shae_.

Yes, tonight she was Shae, what – _who_ \- he had requested in the first place.

Making a decision, she turned towards the sitting area, and sauntered behind to the couch, and patted the back cushion. His lips thinned at the invitation, but after a pause he strode over and took a seat.

Sansa couldn’t help but give a small smile as she slid around in front of him. She carefully stepped forward until he had to spread his knees to make room for her.

Trying to hide her anxiety, Sansa played with the sash of her dress. “Should I...?” She asked looking straight into his eyes.

She saw his Adam’s Apple bob slowly.

He stayed silent the whole time, only giving her a small nod.

 

She slowly untied the stash, and let the wrap dress hang open, giving him a curtain view of what lay beneath.

The lingerie set had been something Shae had also decided for her: a simple but still quite provocative light-blue sheer bra, and matching panties. Sansa had never worn lingerie like this. Her whole body felt hyperaware of his eyes trailing down the gap that she had just offered him.

Again he stayed silent. Only a small hiss from his lips proved that he was still breathing.

Feeling empowered, Sansa slowly shimmied out of the dress, letting it drop at her feet.

He gulped once more as he looked at up and down the length of her.

 

Finally he spoke: “Could you...”

He calmed his voice and started again, in a more detached way: “Turn in place... slowly.”

As Sansa slowly moved in front of him, all the different parts of her body felt taut, feeling his eyes on her... every skin blemish became hypersensitive to the ‘touch’ of his gaze.

From the way her body was reacting Sansa knew that furtive lubing would not be needed.

 

Like everyone else in the world, when her body got turned on, her brain seemed to turn off. – The problem was that she needed to keep her wits about ... the past was only a small reminder of that

At long last she faced him once more. Was it her hopeful imagination or had his breaths become more shallow?

He didn’t give any other possible indication that he had liked what she had exposed to him. He stayed silent staring at her, his arms draped along the back of the sofa.

At the pace they were going she wondered if an evening would be enough time.

 

She breathed, regaining control of her body... – _remember... tonight I’m Shae_...

 

She slowly moved her arms to her back and unclasped her bra. Its only when she was sure that his eyes were on hers that she let the piece of lingerie fall, joining her dress on the floor. When Sansa squared her shoulders, the man’s nostrils flared.

At the hint of passion, Sansa’s attention was drawn downward. A quite impressive shadow could easily be noticed, pressing against the material of his slacks. Only the sound of his voice stopped her from gulping nervously.

“C-continue.”

 

 _My panties_?

The thought of being totally nude in front of this stranger made Sansa squirm, a nervous thrill running down her spine. Unable to comply, but not wanting any possible chastising, she decided to straddle him instead. Resting her knees on either side of his hips, she delicately her hands on his shoulders.

Lowering herself above him, feeling his arousal, she couldn’t help but revel the position; a sense of empowerment running through her. Sansa could feel the heat coming through the clothes. Unable to help herself, she buckled against him.

As if by pure body-reaction, he grabbed Sansa by the hips, his mouth hissing before his breathing resumed in shallow breaths.

\- This was the first time in the whole evening that he had actually touched her. His skin touching hers. His hands felt large, enveloping her hips, his fingers covering her porcelain skin.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - -

 

Gods she was perfect...

 

During the whole time they had been in the master suite, Stannis had pulled every restrain within himself not to touch her. When she had undressed and turned in front of him, Stannis had truly believed that he had died and met the Maiden herself.

He was so scared that if he touched her she would shatter, like Shireen’s porcelain dolls...

He had always needed to be in charge of every aspect of his life. Especially in the corporate world he grew up in. Tonight the control he so intimately knew had vanished. He had no idea what was happening to him.

However, what surprised him the most was the fact that he never would have imagined that it would feel so good to give control to someone else.

When she had hovered above him, his body had reacted when his brain had refused work. And now he was holding her... touching her.

He was scared to move his fingers an inch. Her skin shined between his fingers in the moonlight, making her seem even more fragile. But it seemed he couldn’t control his body anymore. After a hesitation, his fingers began to knead her, felling the softness of her skin.

 

A low groan escaped him.

Thankfully, through revelling in the touch of her, Stannis was still able to hold her upright. Possibly in encouragement, the fallen Maiden in front of him settled more securely over him. – Or more specifically, she settled herself directly over his bulge.

She then proceeded to lean in, her naked breast pressing against his shirt, as she whispered in his ear. “I’m going to give you what you _need_ , Mr businessman.”

With that, her nose slowly followed the contour of his jaw, as she rolled her hips over him. As Stannis gasped at the sensation, she took the advantage and covered his mouth with her own. Her tongue softly licked his lower lip before biting it.

The sting went straight to his crotch, as Stannis pulled back. – He hadn’t kissed anyone in years.

Panting, he asked: “Is this what you think I need? To be kissed?”

With certainty, she replied: “I think you need _passion_.” As she started to grind against him.

Moving his hands away from her, Stannis clutched the couch once more, his knuckles gone white. He gritted: “Maybe if it wasn’t feigned.”

She panted in return, her eyes haunting his: “I’m not feigning anything.”

Stannis couldn’t help but narrow his eyes. Her statement confusing him: could she truly be enjoying this as much as he was?

Holding her hips once more, he ordered in a whisper: “Stop.” As he lifted her up.

 

 _Fucking hells_.

 

Looking down in front of him, he could clearly see a damp spot on his trousers right over his hardness. Stannis grated through his teeth, he still couldn’t truly believe what he was seeing: “You’re actually wet for me.... you’re... you’re using me to get off?”

“T-trust me... we’ll both find _release_...”

Stannis blinked back at her.

Unable to stop himself, he let her regain the control she had over him. In return, she continued to grind on top of him. She pressed her bare chest once more on top of him as she reached, and threads her fingers through his hair. Her fingers twists and slightly pulls...

Stannis moaned, as his head falling back, following the motion.

_Soooo damn gooood_...

 

He felt her lips touch his neck, and suck.

His groin buckled in response.

“Gods... do that again.” She purred in his ear. He complied.

She writhed above him, her lips continuing to suck and bite his neck, her fingers scratching from his hair to his shoulders, to then run down his chest. Slowly she started unbuttoning his shirt. Her lips nipped the base of his neck.

Stannis having lost total control, felt his hips bucked hard into her, his hardness rocking against her panties. Seemingly at her encouragement, they didn’t stop: his hips created friction against her.

“D-don’t ... stop.” She whimpered.

And he didn’t. Not until she let herself fall back, arching backwards, her head facing the ceiling, her breast exposing themselves to him, her skin shinning in the nightlight.

And then she cried out... moaning like a wolf to the moon.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

Coming back down from her high, Sansa’s brain slowly started working again. – _Gods, I can’t believe I just did that_. She thought panting.

 

When Stannis had moulded his hands against her skin, she had remembered the _passion_ Ramsay used to bring to the bedroom (and other aspects of his life) and Sansa had been unable to stop herself from biting Stannis’s lip. From then she had let her body control her movements.

 

As the spasms faded, her blood starting to move within her once more, Sansa pulled herself back up, her head returning to face him. Her eyes meeting the storm going on in his.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he brought his hand from the sofa he had been gripping, and wrapped it around her hair. His fist forced her forward till their lips met in a hot passionate kiss as if he wanted to taste the passion she had just experience through her lips. As Sansa gasped, he eagerly responded, sucking on her lips, his tongue delving into her.

Sansa was so focused on the kiss that she didn’t notice when his hands had dropped, and had clenched on her hips. Its only when he started to rise from the sofa, her being held, that she realised what was happening.

Breaking from the kiss, she was panting, as his breaths were heavy against her neck. As he continued to lift them up, and move from the sofa, he hissed against her neck. “I can’t wait any longer.” - ... _me neither Mr businessman_...

Next thing she knew Sansa was lying on top of soft bed sheets, as she watched him remove the rest of his shirt, socks and trousers in a brutal and rushed manner - contrasting greatly with the controlled movement he had given his jacket and tie at the start of the evening.

Soon he was hovering above her, looking down. A predator looking at his helpless prey, a growl sounded from his chest. An actual growl.

“What are you doing to me?” he breathed.

She whispered back: “I could ask you the same thing.”

 

After a long pause of him looking down the length of her, he fell on her, his face burying itself in her breast, his lips seeking her hard nipples. Sansa arched against his mouth.

Trailing small kisses and bites across her chest and stomach, Sansa could hear him mummer: “So perfect... beautiful... sweet...”

His lips reached her hips, and he gave them each a small bite, before his tongue rolled along the edge on her panties.

She buckled and moaned in response. Her fingers reached out and fisted his hair once more.

She barely had time to realise her panties were being pulled down, before she felt his mouth suck her heat with another growl. It seemed he couldn’t stop himself from sucking, licking, even gently biting her red lips.

Sansa could only cry out in response. Her mouth moaning, what her bottom lips were enjoying.

She squirmed and cried until she howled once more.

 

When she opened her eyes once more, she saw him looming above her. A smirk on his lips.

He whispered: “I like when you cry for me.”

As he leaned into her, Sansa felt his fingers running along her heat, spreading her moisture, as if he needed more proof of the orgasm she had just had. He probed her entrance. His eyes sparkled in wonder: “So ready...”

 

When he withdrew from her, Sansa was unable to stop herself from moaning at the loss. Her smouldering gaze met his, as she looked at him stand next to the bed and pull down his briefs.

 _Seven Hells_...

Sansa shivered. She couldn’t look away as he stood naked in front of her. His wide shoulders, his toned abs, brawny legs... his impressive arousal. Her eyes followed him as he moved to one of the side tables and took out protection. Her eyes followed his movement as he sheathed on the condom, his hardness pulsating in his hand.

Then he was above her once more.

He parted her legs further apart, as he moved in between them. She had barely time to enjoy the feel of his naked body covering hers, when –

- _Ahh_!

He thrust into her.

 

Looking from where they were joined to her eyes, he held himself still for a moment before starting to move, his whole body shuddering with the movement.

“Sooo fucking tight...” he moaned.

Each time he moved within her, she accepted more of him. And with every thrust, Sansa couldn’t help but moan, her hips moving with him... – _Gods... no sex for four years and now this_!

He was growling in response, going deeper and deeper within her... as if he couldn’t get enough of her... When he leaned in over her, he murmured against her ear words Sansa didn’t understand. He took her mouth, and Sansa sucked his tongue in response –

\- His hips shot forward, into her, as he snarled further.

They continued this dance, him thrusting himself into her, his hands holding her hips. Her moving in response, as her fingers threaded through his hair and shoulders, before scratching his back.

 

As he continued to surge within her at a faster pace, Sansa grabbed his ass cheeks, digging her nails into his skin. He panted looking at her in confusion, before ramming into her once more.

And again.

And again.

And again.

He rocked into her, until his sweaty body pushed Sansa to the brink.

 

“ _Fuckkkkk!_...”

 

Her explosion was so intense that she barely felt him find his own release seconds later.

With a few more lingering thrust, Sansa heard a long satisfied sound rumbled from his chest, before he collapsed on top of her.

 

Sansa lay boneless beneath him. Her mind blank.

 


	5. Chapter 5 - ... just another bed-time story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later in the night...

 

 

Stannis woke up feeling lighter than he had in years... like a great big weight had been removed from his shoulders...his whole body...

 

_Ummm_...

 

Sighing and then exhaling slowly, he stretched, his arms reaching out...

... And touching something soft. More specifically, his hand felt the soft skin of another person. As he turned and looked over at the sleeping form next to him, the memories of the previous evening came rushing back.

He felt the blood rush up his neck. Self-conscious and bewildered. He had never acted so brazenly... _three times_...

Stannis remembered the progression of the night: first on the sofa, her cradling him between her thighs... then in the bed, him looming above her...

... Then, after a quick reprieve, he had gone to get water, upon returning she had been standing looking out into the night... he had been unable to stop himself from taking her again; pulling her against his body, lifting her so her legs wrapped around his hips, and pressing both their bodies against the wall...

... He had ‘ _found relief_ ’ a third and final time – and her several more times – once more in the bed before they had both drifted off to sleep...

 

The images of the evening ran though his mind: ... of how they had moved together... of him thrusting into her... her skin glowing in the moonlight... her cries... their eyes meeting, as if they were the calm centre of the storm going on around them, the storm their bodies had generated...

 

Robert had been wrong: it hadn’t been about him needing to ‘ _get laid’_ , it had been about him finally relinquishing control... letting something or someone else be in control... well maybe it had also been a bit about him needing to ‘ _get laid’_ , but the fact was that he had let go: ... he had let _his body_... and _her_ take control...

_Selyse_ had never been like that... _he_ had never been like that...

 

He glanced at the clock: _ten-to-two_...

 

He had never slept long hours, but he was surprised how early it was; he had barely slept three hours and yet he felt five years younger...

Stannis moved out of the bed, and went to the adjoining bathroom to rinse his face. Once back in the room, he moved in the opposite direction to the bed; to the desk. Turning on the desk lamp, Stannis decided to get a bit of work done.

He worked for an hour or so... however several times his gaze would shift over to the bed ... his eyes kept on returning the woman sleeping...

As he looked from across the room, Stannis couldn’t help but wonder the reason that had brought her into this ... _career_...

Had the choice been willing?... had she been forced? ... abused?... or was it a love of money?... sex...?

Robert loved to say that the ‘ _world revolves around sex and money._ ’ Stannis didn’t doubt that pleasure was probably happening in some parts of the city right now... planned... spontaneous... and _paid for_...

‘ _Escort’_ , ‘ _hooker’_ , ‘ _prostitute’_ , ‘ _whore’_... he didn’t like any of those terms, but the truth was that they were just semantics: all terms for the career of exposing quite an important part of one’s self... and the other person, reciprocating: baring a part of themselves back to them... a part the rest of the world would probably never see... _it has definitely been the case for me_...

She had affected him... and he had _seen_ her, _heard_ her, _smelt_ her, _felt_ her...

His thoughts turned dark: ... and she probably had this same affect on all her clients... she definitely _excelled_ at her chosen profession...

He had, without doubt, exposed a part of himself to her that no-one else had ever seen... a part that he didn’t even know existed within him...

... A brief but intense relationship; that’s what she had offered him, and in return he had learnt more about himself than he had done the last thirty-three years.

 

After a very un-productive hour at the desk, Stannis gave up.

Concentrating on work has never been this hard. Normally when he woke up his mind was on a buisness issue... definitely not on a beautiful young woman lying next to him... but then again usually there wouldn’t be a young woman or any woman lying in his bed...

 

As he climbed back into bed, he looked over at the sleeping woman. She was a living contradiction:

She was beautiful... she was a distraction...; there was a glowing aura of innocence about her... but the porcelain skin also made her seem spirit-like: a _siren_ haunting him... there was definitely something mystical about her... the way she had simulated his body and his curiosity...

 

 

As he sunk into the bed, he was unable to stop himself from pulling her closer against his side.

 

 

[ ](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/shortsandramblings/media/Story%205%20-%20Stan%20San%2001_zpsvophidvs.jpg.html)

_Stannis looking over Sansa's sleeping form_

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

_Smoke..._

_There was smoke everywhere.... smoke ... something burning and flames could be heard... they were close... too close..._

_She could feel the heat coming through the walls..._

_She could hear the people yelling and screaming... it was chaos..._

_But she could barely see anything... the smoke was everywhere... it had spread into the rooms when everyone was sleeping... unnoticed..._

_The most likely reason: the Greyjoys had waited till the Manor was asleep..._

_...she probably wouldn’t have woken up if it weren’t for the screaming... the yelling... the dogs barking..._

_She moved around ... unsure where to go.... scared to meet the wrong person... but knowing she needed to find her brothers and her sister... Arya, Bran and Rickon... they were all she had now... she had to get them to safety... that was the most important..._

_..._

_Her sister had tears in her eyes – Arya never cried..._

_“Arya,... Arya listen to me: go through the tunnels under the crypt... the ones we used to hide in as kids... go through them to the other side and run... run as fast as you can, and don’t stop till your far away... till you reach the sea..._

_“You can’t leave me... why can’t you come with me..?.”_

_“I need to find Bran and Rickon.”_

_“And then you’ll join me?”_

_Sansa wanted to lie, she wanted to reassure Arya, but Arya hated lies above all else. Arya was the strong one: she could deal with anything... anything but liars..._

_Looking into her sister’s grey eyes, her fingers gripped Arya’s shoulders: “If they have me they won’t go to find you... they don’t need you... just me... I’m the heir now that Robb’s dead: if they have me... they won’t go looking for you and Bran and Rickon..._ ”

 

 

Sansa jolted from her nightmare.

 

She sat up and gasped, looking around in the darkened room. The panic and disorientation of the memory deepen when she couldn’t recognise where she was, unable to distinguish the room, or the comfort of the bed. The sheets surrounding her are all wrong, too soft to be hers... or the ones she had slept in when she was with Ramsay... the smell of them was all wrong as well... they smelt of soap – _a hint of lemon_... she was somewhat reassured not to note Ramsay’s distinctive northern smell...

But her heart was still beating faster at the loss of familiarity...

... Then she heard heavy breathing... the heavy breathing of someone lying next to her... A man sleeping next to her, lying on his stomach.

Her heart raced further when she noticed his hand reached out, automatically searching for her since she’d just knocked it off when she had sat up.

The man shifted in his sleep. He was obviously reaching for her but she quickly scooted out of range, holding the sheet against her nakedness. When his sleep-state continued to search for her, she pushed her pillow closer to him and breathed a small sigh of relief when he pulled it close, accepting it as her.

 

Sighing again, Sansa pushed her hair out of her face, slowly threading her fingers through it. Eyes closed, her heart started to slow down.

Her eyes opened and she looked around once more, trying to orient herself to her surroundings and the darkness. When her memory of the night returned, her face flamed into colour thinking about all the things she had done... they had done... but immediately following she couldn’t stop a small smile forming on her lips.

She wouldn’t lie to herself... she knew a part of her wished she could lie back down and start the whole pleasure-trip over again; allow herself this small bit of .... _escape_. The thought of him, the taste of him ...feeling him pressing against her ... in her once more...

But that was not to be, she thought as she glanced at the clock and saw that it was past four-thirty. The sun would come up in a couple of hours and then she would have class to go to and someone’s house to clean...

... Like in Cinderella, the clock had struck and the fairy tale had turned to reality...

 

Her mind reverted back to _her_ reality... her life... her nightmare...

 

_Arya._

 

They hadn’t spoken in a while...

She quickly decided that she would send her sister a message at one of the cyber-cafes on the way to the cleaning job she had to do.

 

But first she had to get out of here: _rule 1 - don’t do anything above the absolute minimum_...

 

She eased out of the large bed slowly so as not to wake him. Through the process, she felt the tenderness in her thighs as well as in more intimate places. A reminder of the several times they had explored each other... found _relief_ together...

Sansa quietly found her dress and underwear, blushing at where they lay, at the feet of the sofa, reminding her of the striptease each had done in front of him.

_No_! - _I didn’t care_!

Angry at the direction of her thoughts, Sansa picked them up, pulled on the underwear back on and wrapped the dress more protectively around her slender frame. She let her shoes dangle from her hand as she made her way out of the master suite into the darkness, towards the front entrance where her purse had been left.

 

Checking the money was still there, she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty: he had paid for the evening and part of her felt at fault for not staying the _whole_ night... but surely he had gotten his money's worth... _right_?...

 

Sighing, she pivoted her heels and left the penthouse, heading downstairs to face the real world.

By the time Sansa reached the lobby, she was shaking; memories of the night becoming more and more vivid in her mind. He had seen every inch of her several times... more than anyone else had in the last four years... and now she felt exposed... Bright lights accused her; it seemed all eyes were on her. Like everyone knew what she had just done...

 

 

When the cab was a few blocks from her apartment, she told the driver: “You can stop here.” _Rule 2 – No links_... She didn’t want the possibility of a link between the hotel and her home.

 

Memories of the luxury apartment were still ingrained in her mind as she moved through the shady apartment complex and up the stairs to her apartment. Barely inside of the one room studio, Sansa dead-bolted the door before moving past her little kitchenette towards the back wall.

Money in hand she moved around the pots and books of the self to reach her ‘ _safe’_ , one of the ventilation grills.

She used her army knife Robb had given to her years ago to unscrew the grill, and added the money to her meagre funds: 1,087 dragons. Also inside were: her most recent fake ID as well as the burner phone – the _Arya phone_ \- and a few trinkets from her youth.

Money secured, and safe once again ‘hidden’ behind the books, she finally moved to the single bed.

 

She sunk down into the flannel sheets, trying to forget the fire... Arya... Ramsay... the penthouse... but most of all those dark blues eyes...

 


	6. Chapter 6 - ... just another phone call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two days later: Stannis is having trouble concentrating, Sansa is ... still in trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I know nothing of business and finance, so if I used the terms wrong, or wrote something bad in terms of business and finance I apologise in advance.

 

 

Stannis sat at his desk, trying to enjoy his morning coffee and toast. Unusually, for he was a creature of habit and rarely varied his breakfast routine, he had asked his personal assistant, Justin Massey, to make him a second cup of black coffee.

While he sat waiting for it he glanced at the files, letters and memos on his desk.

Meticulously tidy as always, he had already sorted them, the discarded envelopes of the letters already in the bin. Communications he had no interest in had followed. The rest was divided between urgent matters, less urgent documents, stock reports, letters that would require an answer of some kind – he would probably leave Massey to deal with those-, and _The Landing Times_.

All but the last would be dealt with after eight and any replies after nine – except urgent.

 

Stannis sighed, feeling the lack of sleep from the night before. However, surprisingly, even with less hours of sleep than usual, he felt _restless_. His teeth grinded together. – _Why this sudden unease_? He loved the start of a work day.

Then he scoffed to himself; Stannis knew exactly why he was feeling restless – _her_

He was here, at the King’s Landing Baratheon Tower, instead of having his breakfast in the penthouse suite because of _her_. His routine had been altered by _her_ ... she was definitely a siren _haunting_ him. Haunting him so much that she had chased him away from his own bedroom.

Last night he had been unable to sleep, unable to forget her... it probably didn’t help that her scent was still on the sheets... sheets he had instructed the hotel not to change; yesterday, as well as this morning.

So, unable to stay in the suite she haunted, Stannis was here, at work, at barely seven-thirty.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival, silently by the desk, of Massey with the second and most welcome cup of coffee.

Stannis was looking intently at the porcelain cup when he became aware that Justin Massey was addressing him.

“-and so I took the liberty, sir, of promising that you would return the call today.”

“Sorry, Massey, someone called?”

“Yes sir: Mr Robert Baratheon. It was late last night, sir, after you had already retired to the penthouse at King’s Gate. You had asked not to be disturbed, so I informed him that you would return his call today.”

 

_Fucking Robert..._

Stannis knew why he had called. He had ignored the call Robert had done to his cell. Obviously Robert hadn’t gotten the hint. Stannis had no intention of talking to his interfering older brother, especially to talk about whether or not Stannis had enjoyed his ‘ _gift’_.

“Thank you Massey, I will deal with my brother.” – _...by ignoring him_.

Massey gave a curt nod, and departed.

 

As Stannis drank the cup, he looked over the main articles and then the business and finance sections of the newspaper.

But the words would not sink in.

 

He could only see her eyes, her porcelain skin, her shimmering hair...

It had been like that all of yesterday. At one point, he had noticed a woman with auburn hair walking down the office corridor; his heart had skipped a beat, before realising her skin tone wasn’t right, her hair was to short, her figure too imposing ...

 

Stannis remembered two nights ago, gazing at her sleeping form. She had been so beautiful: her skin flawless in the soft light, her hair fanning out, her eyelashes fluttering, her lips parted the tiniest amount -

 _-Fucking hells... get a grip on yourself_!

 

With that, Stannis willed himself back to the stock exchange page.

 

 

. . .

 

“...Now that we’ve had this preliminary meeting, and have an idea of your needs and expectations, we’ll prepare a detailed proposal for you and reconvene next week to discuss it.” Davos said to the Targaryen group, bringing the meeting to a close.

 

Rhaegar Targaryen and Arthur Dayne both nodded their approval.

“Great” Stannis said, trying to look and sound engaged.

 

A few more nods from everyone else, before they all stood, heading for the glass door of the conference room.

 

Trying to get his mind on the business at hand, Stannis addressed Rhaegar Targaryen: “Thank you for giving us the opportunity to quote this, Targaryen.”

The dragon gave him a small smile: “Rhaegar, please... It sounds like you know what we need. In any case, it’s me that should be grateful that you still want to keep a good relationship, even after the whole issue with ...” – his late-wife’s name ended up not being said.

Stannis replied with a grim face: “It’s been over twenty years, I am not Robert, and we are family... besides Jon was a great addition at Dragonstone. He seemed to have learnt a lot?”

“Yes, Jon definitely enjoyed working with both you and Mr Seaworth. As for Robert, he has always been a ... _passionate_ person, can’t blame him for that.”

 _Yes you can... but I am starting to understand his strange fascination to one woman_...

 

Not privy to his thoughts, Rhaegar continued:

“Actually: all the family is arriving at Kings Landing this weekend, just in time for the Winter Festivities. You should come to dinner one night, before heading back to Dragonstone. We can all properly catch up, with no business talk. Daenerys would probably like to see you, and Jon definitely would.”

Stannis gave a stiff smile: “I let my secretary know; see if something can be arranged.”

“Great.”

 

. . .

 

 _‘... the safety of the shipment or road crew is not guaranteed... safety... shipment... road... guaranteed... safety of the shipment... Westeros Interland Department not willing... without backing... road crew is not guaranteed..._ ’

 

He was looking down at the report Cressen had done on the Tyrell proposal Renly had sent him, but, once again nothing was sinking in. His efforts to read the paragraph were futile.

Stannis sighed, running his fingers through his hair; resigned.

 

_Fuck it._

 

His picked up the desk phone and dialled.

 

Stannis was still wondering if this was a huge mistake when he heard the deep voice at the other end: “Seaworth speaking.”

“Davos - do you still have the report you started on Miss Alayne Stone?”

There’s a small pause before his associate replied: “O-of course.”

Not wanting to go into the subject, even with Davos... _especially with Davos_ , Stannis briefly replied: “Good. Send it over.”

“Of course. - Though I must warn you...”

Stannis raised an eyebrow: “Yes?”

Davos sounded a little irritated when he confessed: “There isn’t much in it.”

Stannis couldn’t hide his surprise: “Oh?”

Sounding even more peeved, Davos replied: “Yes, we hadn’t been able to uncover much about the young lady... And then, when the matter seemed ... _concluded_ , we stopped investigating for more.”

 

Stannis, unsure what to reply on the matter, only said: “Just send the file over.”

 

 

 

= = =

 

 

 

Blue skies. A cool breeze.

It was supposedly winter, with the [Hour of the Wolf](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Hour_of_the_Wolf) Festivities starting at the end of next week, but Sansa didn’t feel it. – _They don’t know true winter down here_...

 

Sansa stared out at the fields in front of her, right outside Rosby. She thought about the last few months, the last few days, and the week ahead... her _last_ week in Kings Landing.

 

She also thought what she would and wouldn’t say to Arya. - Not that the conversation would be long; they barely had a minute each.

They both knew that, if someone was tracking them, it would take approximately two minutes to triangulate a phone call and she would need to get out of the area before who ever had possibly tracked her down would be there to intercept her...

 

In any case, they never told each other where they were, or what specifically they were doing for work... _Just in case_... _Just in case someone would find either of them_...

 

Looking at her watch, Sansa took out the burner phone, put the battery in and turned it on.

 

For once, she was glad they couldn’t really share anything.

Sansa wouldn’t really know how to tell her sister that she met a _man_... She definitely couldn’t say how and why she had met said man... She doubted her sister would understand or approve ... part of Sansa still didn’t understand what had happened-

 

- ** _Ding-ding-ding-liing-liing..._**

 

The phone rang right at four on the dot.

Pressing the green button, she spoke: “Hiya.” – _No names_...

 

 _‘Hiya_ ’- _Things were good. She was alone._

‘ _Hey’_ \- _Things were not good_ : _someone was there with her_...

 

“Hiya. How are you?”

 

She talked keeping her eye on her watch.

 

“Good; moving soon.”

“Same.” – _Arya had a similar set of rules to Sansa_...

“I dreamed of _that_ night.”

“Oh?”

“I’m still looking for them.” Sansa said with sorrow in her voice. ... _Where were they_?

“So am I. - Have you talked with Ma recently?” - _Ma: short for ‘Maester’, the nickname they had given Mr Luwin, the family lawyer, when they were kids._

“Not yet, will wait till my last night.”

She only ever called Arya near the end of her stay. And on her last day she would message Luwin: informing him that she was fine... that she was still alive...that Arya was still alive. The phone would be ditched soon after.

 

Sansa unable to hold it any longer spoke once more: “I-I ... I think I saw Damon.”

Her sister’s voice grumbled in response: “Why are you still there then?!”

She sighed in resignation: “I can’t leave just yet – in a few days. In any case, I’m not sure it was _him.._. And he didn’t see me.”

“He has to be there for a reason!”

 

Wanting to drop the subject, Sansa asked: “Any plans for next week?”

“Next week?”

“The [Hour of the Wolf](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Hour_of_the_Wolf) Festivities?”

“Oh?... no. You?”

– From her sister’s response Sansa wondered if Arya was even in Westerors: only the Seven Kingdoms observed the winter celebrations dedicated to [Cregan Stark](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Cregan_Stark), but none of Essos.

“Will probably be on my way to my next destination.”

“Be sure to send me your new number.” - When leaving a city, Sansa always got a new phone but only used it once she was safely in a new city.

“Of course. Same goes to you.”

 

There was an awkward pause. – They both knew that their two minutes were nearly up.

 

Sansa swallowed her sadness and frustrations. It killed her that she couldn’t properly talk with Arya... that she couldn’t be with her sister... or she had no idea where her brothers were.

Sighing she said: “Until next time.”

Her sister softy whispered in return: “Bye.”

 

 

. . .

 

 

On the train journey back to Kings Landing, Sansa’s thought of her conversation with her sister. She had constantly wondered what her sister looked like now?...What she was doing?... She also wondered what her brothers looked like?... where they were?... If they were together?... if they were still –

- _NO_!

She refused to let her mind wonder to such dark thoughts. Theon had said they were still alive, so that meant they were still alive.

 

Refusing to think of Theon ... or Ramsay, her thoughts went to Stannis Baratheon.

 

For the past two day, Sansa had tried to put him out of her mind, forget about those blues eyes...

... Until her resolve had broken. During her cleaning job this morning, Sansa hadn’t been able to stop herself from slipping off her cleaning gloves and doing a quick search about _him_ on the internet, using the home’s computer.

He had grown up in Storm’s End. He had two brothers. Sadly, both his parents had died in a boating accident, when he was barely out of school. This had probably been one of the factors to the fact that he had achieved both a BBA and an MBA in record time at King’s University.

Now, although only thirty-three, he was one of the Managing Partners of Baratheon Industries. His personal net worth fluctuated between nine hundred million and just over a billion, depending on how the market was doing. His business dealings mainly focused on real estate and government contracts all around Westeros and even parts of Essos.

 

Yesterday when Sansa had quickly talked about her _evening_ with said businessman, Shae had exclaimed:

“WHAT!?! You were with Stannis Baratheon... not _Robert_ Baratheon?”

“N-no he definitely said his name was Stannis...” – _Something she had confirmed today during her web-search_.

The voice on the other end had sounded stunned: “Wow – I heard he’s lives like a monk. His brother is the _hobbyist_... not that his brother is bad looking but he’s definitely let go a bit... Robert Baratheon’s looks and body are definitely not what they use to be... plus he’s shagged everything and anything... Baelish’s girls even have had a go at him...”

Mentally, Sansa was glad she hadn’t slept with the hobbyist brother. What Shae had told also explained a lot on the way Stannis had acted their night together... _well at least at the beginning_...

 

 

. . .

 

 

From the train station, Sansa went directly to her evening Economics class. Trying to forget her troubles, or the millionaire- billionaire she had spent an evening with.

 

“Remember class, the final exam is next Wednesday at six, ...not six-thirty... or seven; six. You should be able to ‘ _squeeze_ ’ it in your ‘ _busy schedules’_ , even with all you holiday plans. - We’ll spend today and Friday reviewing; I’m going to give you terms of what you might expect on the exam. Define them and then give a possible real-world scenario for each.” Ms Missandei Naathali said to the class.

 

Sighing, Sansa tried to focus of the economics lesson. She took out her pen and notebook, determined to focus on the lesson _– and not Stannis Baratheon_.

 

Shaking herself, Sansa properly looked at the words written in front of the class, and started to define them.

 ** _Inflation_** : a persistent, substantial rise in the general level of prices related to an increase in the volume of money. – _Or, the more hours spent with a client, the more money an escort can demand_...

 ** _Deflation_** : a fall in the general price level or a contraction of credit and available money. - _Or what would happen to an escort’s rate with age..._

 ** _Stock_** : ...

... _two possible definitions_ :

1\. a supply of goods kept on hand for sale to customers by a merchant, distributor, manufacturer,... _– Or a supply of my body to be made available to the client_ ...

2\. a quantity of something accumulated, as for future use. _– Or, the money I need to keep as much distance between Ramsay and me_...

 

 

. . .

 

After the class, while waiting for the bus to the outskirts of town, Sansa turned on her ‘ _Alayne phone’_. She had turned it off before heading to Rosby, and had forgotten all about it afterwards.

 

It beeped like crazy – eight messages from Shae! - _WFT_?

 

Hands shaking, Sansa dialled her: “Uh, hey?”

“Alayne! Finally! Your business monk, Baratheon, he’s been calling Chataya like crazy! Apparently he’s one scary-sounding man.”

 

Sansa paled – _Shit! Is he angry that I didn’t stay the whole night? ... Surely he would have complained yesterday?... plus: we fucked three times, for Gods sake_!

 

She listened as Shae continued to ramble on: “...I had to do some quick thinking since Chataya didn’t know she’d hired you yet. If she asks: you were an independent, a Platimum Level up in Gulltown.”

“O-ok.”

“Anyway he wants you to return to the penthouse, like now!”

Sansa lost all colour that had been still in her face: “What?” – _Shit, he definitely wants some of his money back_...

 

“Oh, Aly, he wants to book you! Do you know what that means? You have some sort of miracle vagina! And the monk wants more of it! – Chataya is beside herself: both Robert and Renly Baratheon have been clients but _never_ Stannis...... He’s always been the ‘ _magical unicorn’_ ; the one that go away...”

“Wait, book me?”

“Yea, for tonight. Chataya was calling me, I was calling you. And then, when Chataya couldn’t confirm...well, let’s just say that the Baratheons brothers are used to getting what they want... and Stannis Baratheon can be quite adamant...

...The man kept offering more money. Then, finally he demanded to buy your personal number. Chataya just called me for it...”

 

 _Fuuuuckkkk... this is getting worse and worse_...

“Which you didn’t give _right_?”

There was no answer on the other end.

“Shae! We talked about this! There are boundaries!?!” - _Rule 5- don’t trust anybody... especially not an escort with your number so she can give it to some guy so he can fuck you once more_...

 _... Even if he is the best shag you’ve had... and you can’t get him out of your head... it’s the principle_!

 

“Weelll... we also did talk about your number, about changing it. – I held out as long as I could, but then Chataya said he offered six thousand, I caved. We’re to split half.”

Sansa thought about it: _I am going to get rid of the number in a week anyway..._ _and it means more money... another 1,500_...

Sighing, Sansa asked: “What else did you say to Chataya about me?”

“Nothing much. Mainly because the only thing I know is that you can clean my toilet like no-one’s business... and apparently you have a magical vagina. Aly, listen to me: you could land the ‘ _unicorn-monk_ ’... do you know how rich the Baratheons are?! ...”

 

As Shae continued to rambled, her phone beeped, indicating another call...- _Fuck it’s him, he’s trying to call me_...

“Shae... I have to go...”

“Land him Alayne! Land him and then you’ll take care of me!”

 

Sansa hung up on Shae’s tirade, and dialled the missed-call number. Trying to sound calm, she spoke:

“Why are you calling me?”- _I am my inner-Shae... I am a femme fatale... I always talk to clients who want to have sex with me_...

The voice on the other end sounded annoyed but also surprised: “Why do you think I’m calling you?”

“I think you’re not happy I left before the night was over and you want a refund.”

“I’m not going to pretend that I wasn’t a little disappointed that you weren’t there when I woke up, but I didn’t call for that. I would like to see you again- _now_. Hopefully we’ll both be able to ... find _relief_ again...”

Sansa felt her heart race.

Taking her pause as a possible ‘no’, he persisted: “You can’t tell me you don’t want a repeat?... You seemed _quite satisfied_ last time.”

 

Sansa did a mind chart: the positive and the negative:

 ** _Positive_** : more money, more great sex.

 ** _Negative_** : flirting dangerously with rule 1, rule 2, rule 4, and rule 5... Plus risk of deflation of self-worth and possible infatuation.

 

She then quickly thought about her time frame _: going home, putting the class materials away, hiding the ‘Arya phone’, taking a quick shower, getting ready, the cab ride to his_...

“I can’t be there till nine, and I can’t stay long.” – She wouldn’t stay the whole night like she had done last time: _too dangerous_....

 

After a pause, his deep voice asked: “I want you here in less than thirty minutes... how much will that cost?”

Sansa, starting to get irritated by his demands, scoffed: “Sorry, not possible.”

 

Another stretch of silence.

 

Finally, he gritted: “See you at nine.”

 


	7. Chapter 7 - ... just a dinner amongst friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At nine that evening...

 

 

As Sansa arrived at the penthouse level, she couldn’t help but feel the déjà-vu of the scene in front of her; her mind wondering if this was a good idea, her body shaking in worry...

 

Forcing her body and mind to cooperate, Sansa reminded herself: _it’s_ _only a few hours, and then you’ll definitely have all the money you need to get the hell out of this city to safety and to find Bran and Rickon_...

 

Sighing, she rang the door bell, which was almost instantly answered by the severe bearded man from last time. Continuing to feel the repeat of two nights ago, Sansa gave a small smile as she said: “Good evening.”

Alas, he didn’t return her smile, instead his eyes narrowed on her, as he spoke gruffly: “Miss Stone”, before letting her move into the suite.

 

Sansa was relieved that, within moments of entering, she noticed Stannis Baratheon walking towards them. However he didn’t seem too happy to see her either. – _Does he ever smile_?

Instead of properly greeting her, he said: “You’re late.”

Sansa, now really annoyed by the way she was greeted by both men, snapped: “I can leave if you’re not happy.” Ignoring, the huff the other man made at her response, she continued: “In any case, you’re the one who called last minute.”

His eyes narrowed in frustration: “I began calling this afternoon.”

Sansa tapped her chin: “Sounds like a _you_ problem.”

There was a pause.

It continued for so long that Sansa wondered if she might have gone too far.

 

However, when Stannis finally replied, it was to address his right hand man: “Thank you Davos, I can take it from here.”

Sansa could sense that the older man wanted to add something. However, after the briefest of pauses, he only nodded to Stannis’s request. Sansa felt Mr Seaworth's cutting gaze on her as he left.

 

Once they were alone, Sansa murmured: “I don’t think he likes me much.”

Stannis’s lips twitched: “He’s suspicious because he was caught off guard by your appearance last time, and he still can’t find information about you. Anyone who comes in contact with me or my family would have an inch-thick dossier by now.”

Sansa gave a nervous smile. – _That sounds risky... but I’m only here a couple of hours... should be fine_...

 

His face returned to its previous scowl: “Why are you late?”

Sansa’s smile disappeared: “I don’t appreciate being strong-armed into a date last minute.” – _Ramsay would always do things ‘spontaneously’, hated being bored_...

Stannis raised an eye-brow: “I would think most escorts wouldn’t need to be ‘strong-armed’ into a date with a billionaire?”

Sansa bated her eyelashes, remembering her web-search from this morning: “Oh... but you aren’t quite a _billionaire_ today, now, are you?”

His lips curled: “A bad few days in the market. So you looked me up?”

“You looked me up last time.” She retorted. “Furthermore: I don’t appreciate you violating my privacy. My private line was supposed to stay _private_.”

His eyebrows joined; irritated that he had to explain his actions: “Your agency didn’t seem able to reach you, so I felt that I needed to take the matter in my own hands. Which leads me back to my initial inquiry: where were you this evening that your own manager didn’t know where you were?”

Sansa shrugged, not wanting to explain her afternoon or the fact that it took her two hours to get to him: “Here and there.”

“Did you have a standing date?”

“Boundaries, Mr Businessman. That is none of your _business_.”

He grinded his teeth: “It is _my_ _business_ if it affects _my_ plans.” Stepping closer, he added: “And I would hate to be following another.”

Sansa blinked – _shit, he’s definitely mad now_ : “Y-you’re not. I haven’t had sex with anyone but you in a while.” - ... _four years..._

 

There was a pause, him looking at her, probably wondering if she was lying or not, then his lips twitched:

“Have you thought about me?”

Sansa felt her heart skip a beat as she tried to reply with as much confidence as possible: “Fleetingly.”

He moved closer to her, invading her personal space, his voice now raspy: “Enough to look me up...”

Sansa felt her breath starting to shorten as he placed his hands on her hips, like he had the last time. He started nuzzling her neck, making her head fall back for more access. His nose softly caressed her slender neck upwards, till the jaw, before his mouth captured hers.

Sansa couldn’t think of anything else but welcoming his hard lips. She parted her own lips, her tongue softly licking his lower lip, and felt exhilarated when she heard a soft growl in response.

She felt his body pressing further into hers, moving them both, her backwards, him forwards, when abruptly -

\- Sansa’s stomach rumbled. _Loudly_.

At the sudden interruption, he drew back, releasing her, with surprise on his face: “You haven’t eaten?”

Feeling unexpectedly very shy and embarrassed, Sansa only shook her head.

 

After a moment of silence, him looking at her intently, Stannis sighed, seemingly resigned to a decision he didn’t fully approve of: “Let’s go down to the restaurant for some food.”

Sansa heart rate increased, this time with panic: ... _the restaurant would be too open... too public_...

Trying to sound calm, she suggested: “I thought you didn’t like to share... wouldn’t you prefer eating in, just to the two of us?”

After another small pause, Stannis replied: “Right you are - Anything in particular you would like?”

Not wanting to reveal more about herself, Sansa only gave a small shrug: “Whatever you think is best.”

“Fair enough, I will go make the order. Make yourself comfortable.” He said, before heading to the master suite.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Arriving at the master-suite, Stannis was angry with himself.

When Alayne had suggested ordering-in, the thought of a phone call reminded Stannis that he still hadn’t called Shireen. Frowning, he couldn’t help but be annoyed at himself: he always called his daughter before her bed-time.

 

Hoping he wasn’t too late, he dialled.

 

“Daddy! I was wondering if you were going to call.”

Stannis feeling a little guilty decided to be truthful: “I am about to have dinner with a ... friend. I took a few minutes to quickly say good night to you.”

“Is it Davos?”

Stannis was somewhat taken back by his daughter’s interest: “No – it’s a new friend.”

He was even more surprised when he heard a small squeal on the other end: “You making new friends?! That’s great: will I meet them?”

“No Shireen, sorry. It’s a business friend.” – _Both the terms ‘friend’ and ‘business’ being used loosely_...

 

Wanting to change the subject, Stannis asked: “How was your day? School went well?”

“It was great. We talked about the celebrations next week: the Hour of the Wolf. Ms Farring explained that in addition to being a historical event, that marked the end of the Dragon Wars, it also celebrates the longest night of the year. The ‘Hour of the Wolf’ also means the ‘blackest part of the night’. Did you know that dad? Doesn’t it sound so poetic?...”

Stannis lips formed a small smile at his daughter’s exuberance.

“...We then learned all about the different times of the night: the Hour of the Bat, of the Eel, of the Ghosts, of the Owl, and of the Nightingale. There are so many...”

Shireen continued to talk a little longer about her day, before asking him about his. Thinking and talking about his own day, Stannis was reminded of another person that needed his attention.

“Shireen- I’m going to have to go, but I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Okay?”

“Of course.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

“Goodnight Dad.”

 

After hanging up, Stannis quickly called the hotel, and ordered various things of the menu. As he walked back down the corridor, he couldn’t help but wonder why he had mentioned Miss Stone to his daughter?

However, his thoughts changed when, arriving in the main living space, he was surprised and irritated to note that it was empty. – _Has she slipped out whilst I was on the phone_?

But that didn’t make sense: he still hadn’t paid her for the evening...and he was convinced that she was looking forward to their night together as much as he was.

 

He was about to call out for Davos, when he heard the sound of water splatter.

 

Heading towards the noise, Stannis went outside to find Alayne sitting at the edge of the pool, her legs splashing in the water.

Upon noticing him, she gave him the biggest, most childlike grin: “Gods, this is amazing. I haven’t been in the water in ages. You must love having your own pool?”

Stannis was caught by the simplicity and naivety of her actions and her smile. She was definitely a confusing creature. He was also surprised by the comment. He hadn’t been near the pool once during his stay, and had definitely not thought about using it.

Feeling too embarrassed to admit this, he instead replied: “Perhaps we’ll have time for a dip later...” – _much later_...

Her face changed to one of disappointment: “Not now?”

Trying to remember what Marya said to her children when they wanted to go swimming, he chastised: “It’s not good to go swimming before you eat.”

She scoffed in response: “I think you would find that it’s not good to swimming _after_ you eat. In any case, I’m pretty sure that it's something parents invented so that their children would go take a nap, instead of having to supervise them by the pool.”

 

She stood back up then and stared at him with the most innocent look: “Is there nothing that I can do to change your mind?”

Stannis replied: “I doubt it.”

Obviously taking the challenge, her next actions made his heart skip a beat: she slowly slipped off the straps of her dress from her shoulders, and let her dress descend down her figure, and drop onto the deck.

Stannis gulped. - _Yes, definitely an extraordinary creature of contradiction; innocent one moment, seductress the next..._

 

Before he had time to react further, she dived into the water, in just her lingerie.

She slowly, gracefully swam a few strokes underwater before returning to the edge. Her head broke the surface of the water with a satisfied smile grin, her eyes closed.

“Perfect.” She sighed.

Looking at the beautiful siren, glowing in the moonlight, Stannis couldn’t help but silently agree with her.

 

She slowly opened her eyes; the bright blue orbs penetrating into him.

“So...have I convinced you?”

With a rough voice, he replied: “I am quite happy enjoying the view from here.”

There was a small pause, each looking at each other, before she pulled herself higher against the edge, her lips parted and her eyes darker. Hoping he had understood the gesture, Stannis crouched at the edge to meet her.

Her wet lips touched his hard ones. Parting, he was able delve his tongue into her mouth, tasting her...

Enjoying the sensation, he was barely aware of her wet hand wrap around his nape, bringing them closer.

Then suddenly he felt her pulling him forward –

 

– _WHAT THE FUCK!?_!

 

Next thing he knew, he was splattering in the water, Alayne swimming next to him, laughing.

Bobbing in the cool water, Stannis cleared his eyes from the dripping water, before grumbling, in a voice not as serious as he had hoped: “You’ll pay for that.”

She only gave a small evil smirk in return: “I regret nothing. In any case, you’ll have to catch me first.” And with that she dived into the water, to reappear a few moments later, at the other edge of the pool.

 

Unable to decline her daring comment and actions, Stannis lunged into the water after her.

 

It took longer than expected to catch her, but when he did, she only started laughing harder, her arms and legs wrapped around him. Her cheerfulness contagious, Stannis laughed as well.

“I was right: you are a siren... bringing men to their doom-”

 

\- Davos suddenly appeared on the pool deck gaze alert, hand on the gun holster at his hip.

 

At the sudden intrusion, he felt Alayne twist behind him, hiding her near naked body from Davos. Stannis on the other hand, finding the situation a little comical, explained: “So unused to the sound of me laughing, he comes running in alarm.”

Davos’s pulsed gaze went from the general pool scene, to Stannis, to over Stannis shoulder, where Alaye was hiding.

Sounding very perplexed, he spoke: “The food you have requested has arrived. They brought it into the main space.”

Stannis thinking quickly, knowing he probably wanted the rest of the evening to go without any more disturbances, replied: “Could you please have it moved to the master suite. We’ll be out in just a bit.”

 

Davos still looked confused when he gave a brief nod and went back inside.

 

Stannis turned back around to see Alayne and wondered if she might actually be looking a little paler. In any case, he would have to be blind not to notice her body shaking.

He frowned in worry: “Did seeing a gun worry you?”

She only gave a small nod in response.

Not wanting the mood dampened, Stannis took her hand in his and gently lead them both back to the edge of the pool. “Come... let’s go feed you.”

 

Stannis pulled himself out the pool first and, not caring for his dripping wet shirt and trousers, went to retrieve a large bathrobe for Alayne.

When he returned, she was standing by the edge, her body still shaking – though this time probably because of the cool breeze against her wet skin.

Stannis carefully wrapped the large robe against her small frame.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Sansa was still a little shaken by the sight of the gun when she felt Stannis envelope her in the white robe, and his large hands gently rubbing her back to warm her up. _– The last time she had seen a gun, it had been in her hands, after killing Myranda_...

 

Her properly wrapped up, him still in his wet clothes, Stannis lead them both back inside the penthouse, guiding them towards the master suite. However, Sansa stopped in her tracks.

Seeing the gun had also reminded her of the reality of the situation... the reality of _her_ situation. She had been reminded of her and Shae’s rules: her _donation_... she still hadn’t requested it.

 

Noticing that she wasn’t following, Stannis turned to face her, with a questioning look.

She couldn’t help but blush a little as she explained: “Before we enjoy any more of each other’s company, there are a few things that need to be addressed ...”

His face shifted into understanding: “Of course.”

 

Trying to get more confident, Sansa squared her shoulders, and spoke a little more firmly: “With the last minute notice and the fact that you invaded my privacy the rate has increased with an extra ten grand.”

 

. . . . . . . .

 

After they had sorted the financial portion of the evening, they had finally gone to the master suite.

 

Stannis had left her to the food trays as he went to change from his wet clothes. Realising how hungry she was, Sansa filled two plates full of food, before she moved to the carpet near the sofa.

 

When Stannis returned, in his own bathrobe, she noticed the surprised look as he took in her eating arrangement.

Instead of explaining his questioning look, she patted the spot of the carpet next to her.

With an amused look, he murmured: “You continue to confound me”, as he did as she bid.

 

While Sansa gazed at the food, trying to decide what she should start with, she felt his gaze still on her.

Looking back up, she asked: “What?”

“I can’t figure you out. I’m usually much better at reading someone.” He explained with a small frown. “Are you so secretive because your fear another besotted client?” – _Nope... just a bat-shit crazy husband_...

 

Trying to lighten the mood, and her thoughts, Sansa teased: “Should I be worried about you?”

“You looked me up; what do you think?”

“There is a lot on your business accomplishment, and little on your personal life. This tells me that, like me and unlike your two brothers, you are a private person...”

His brow creased as he asked: “Could I tempt you to tell me about yourself if I paid-“

“ _No_.”

His eyebrows still frowning, he asked: “You read as much as you wanted about me, and yet I can know nothing about you?”

Sansa retorted: “You can read as much as you want about me on the agency’s site. In both cases, the internet gives a view of our _business_ life, not our personal life. I was quite serious last time when I instituted a no-personal-questions rule.”

“Given your profession, and knowing how much I’m worth, I assumed that you would give me the generic escort spiel to get more money.”

Sansa wanted to be angry at his insinuation but she reminded herself that to him she _was_ an escort: “Yes, I do know your net worth, and you should definitely be proud of your accomplishment. But it won’t influence my behaviour.”

Stannis scoffed: “Oh really?”

This time, Sansa did frown, irritated that he thought her a liar.

“Your wealth is abstract to me.” – _Why would I think of your money, instead of my own?... The money and mansion left to the Stark heir that is out of reach, from both me and Ramsay_...

After a long pause, he replied: “I almost believe you.”

 

They ate a few bites in silence, before Stannis spoke once more, his voice not sounding as confident as before: “I have business meetings in the city until next Tuesday...”

He sipped his drink, waiting for Sansa to comment.

And waiting...

However, not understanding where he was going with the comment, Sansa didn’t say anything. She just stared back at him, innocently.

“I assumed this would be the moment that you would angle for more _dates_? Saying that you could show me the best sites.”

Sansa raise her eyebrows in surprise, a little peeved that he still thought so little of her, but also somewhat pleased that he wanted to spend more time with her. However, then she was quickly reminded of her own plans for the next week.

Giving him a sweet smile, she replied: “I am sure you’ll be able to find something to do in your free time.”

 

His lips parted in shock- not knowing how to take the obvious rejection. _– Wow. Baratheon men are really not used to people saying 'no' to them...._

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Stannis didn’t know what to say. - She was fighting him... _again_! But why? They enjoyed each other’s company, didn’t they?

 

Regaining himself, he once more murmured: “You truly are a singular creature.”

He continued to look into her bright blue eyes, wondering what was going on behind them. His voice lower, full of wonder, he continued: “I never thought I would meet someone more secretive than me. And you ask nothing about me.”

Her face frowning a little, she replied: “I’m not _un_ interested in you, Mr Businessman. But I _am_ a very private person. The less I ask about you, the less you’ll ask about me.”

 

Silently, Stannis wondered why she called him by ‘ _Mr Businessman_ ’. His thoughts grew darker when he realised possibility that she called all her business clients the same, to not confuse them. Not liking the idea, He frowned: “I want to know something you’ve never told another client. Something no one else knows.”

Alayne stared at him with wide eyes at his request.

After a pause, she opened her mouth. Worried she was about to decline, Stannis pressed on: “Just _one_ thing.”

 

Her eyes moved away, staring into nothing.

Stannis felt relief: she was considering it, thinking about her response.

 

With a small voice, she finally spoke: “Flowers. I really like to look at flowers.”

Stannis frowned at her reply: “That’s not a secret: don’t all women like flowers.”

But she shook her head in response:

“No...It’s more than that for me...I love plants: the complexity of plants... flowers ... they never cease to amaze me. I mean have you ever really looked at a plant? The shape, the colour of the petals... They are designed to encourage... entice insects to rest and take their nectar. Each boom has a particular insect that it is trying to entice and all parts of the flower are specifically created for that insect. It’s simply amazing.”

Taken aback by the sudden _very alluring_ answer, Stannis abruptly stood up and went to the table, trying to get his libido under control.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Sansa couldn’t help but feel a little hurt by his abrupt movement away from her, and his angry tone when he asked if she wanted a drink. Although it had probably not been what he had expected for her to answer, she had just shared with him something she had never told anyone...

Even if he wasn’t interested in flowers as much as she was, he could have been less rude in his response!

 

Now irritated, she refused to reply. Instead Sansa stared at her food in anger.

However, when she felt him sit back down next to her, an idea formed in her head, a smile lit her face. – _He wants to be an ass, fine!...Two can play that game_...

 

She then gripped her spoon, and scooped a bit of a cream in it. Noticing that he was still not looking at her face, she raised the spoon, and catapulted the glob at him.

 

_-Splat_!

 

The dollop hit his cheek, before starting to slide down his neck.

He blinked, staring at her with a narrow glare. “Did you _really_ just do that?” He growled, before, suddenly, lunging at her.

Reacting on instinct, Sansa grabbed some of the risotto and pressed her hand against his face. He responded by taking a piece of the savoury pie, and threw it at her.

 

Food went everywhere.

As did both of them.

Sansa started moving as far from Stannis as possible, as she continued to throw things from her plate at him.

Their bodies squirmed.

They fought each other until they were both panting, his broad figure looming above her - having easily over-powered her.

 

Her heart raced further, her whole body alive and conscious of his invading presence; his hands held her wrists... most of his body covered hers... his short shallow breaths blew on the skin revealed by the larger gap in her robe...

 

Then everything stopped.

 

Sansa held her breath, scared to shift the smallest amount, as she noticed his gaze moving. Starting at the showing swell of her breasts, before his stormy dark blue eyes shifted intently to her own...

 


	8. Chapter 8 - ... just caught adrift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised: Mature warning definitely applies to this chapter.
> 
> This chapter only in Stannis’s POV only

 

 

Time had stopped.

 

Everything was still.

 

Her looking up at him.

 

Him looking down.

 

The only sound was the breathing coming from the both of them.

 

Stannis was not a godly man. If he ever addressed them – Old or New – it was usually to curse them. The only possible god he did have was the ocean. From a very early age he had always considered himself a sailor above all else. He had never felt more welcome, more himself, than when he was far out with the deep waters below him and the rumbling skies above him.

With all his sailing experience, he recognised this moment: _this_ was the calm before the storm. Only a few ripples in the water as the wind would start to rise.

 

His first - and probably only true - mistress had been the sea; the untameable lover that he frequently craved. That is, until meeting this enchantress, this creature in front of him, which he understood even less than his first lover.

One could think – looking into those captivating cerulean eyes – that the sea had sent her to Stannis to remind him where he truly belonged.

 

So here he was: a sailor lost in his very own ocean, with his very own siren drawing him to his downfall.

 

 

Earlier, she had pulled him into the water. It had been a calm pool, but water nonetheless. He was now waiting for her to lead him once more into the depth of the water, into the heart of the storm.

 

But she did not move.

 

It was for him to dive in.

He was the doomed sailor accepting his fate.

 

He dove.

And once he plunged, all hell broke loose; the calm transformed to waves colliding into each other.

He crashed his lips against hers, not letting anything back. He poured body and soul into her.

His hands were still grasping hers, above their heads. Their bodies were stretched against each other, allowing Stannis to feel as much of her as possible, through their robes. She moved in frenzy beneath him.

 

His lips didn’t stop; relentless, they continued to attack hers, sucking, biting, burying hers in waves. His tongue met hers, in her sweet mouth.

He was no longer a sailor or her his siren. They were the storm, they were the sea: two waves crashing against each other.

The rest of the room faded away. The food forgotten.

Nothing mattered, existed, but them, moving together... against each other...

 

He could feel her hands pulling against his restrain. However he gave no quarter; he did not loosen his hold.

Instead, he shifted his grip so that one hand was still holding her wrists as the other started to explore.

 

It moved down the length of her arm, to reach her soft hair. With a growl, Stannis fisted her locks, and pulled her head back to give him access her slender neck.

As his mouth started its new assault, his hand continued its downward journey. Upon feeling the woolliness on her half-opened robe, he growled in frustration. His hand quickly moved it aside, to her shoulders. Before then taking time to open his own gown as well.

He let out a soft groan as he pressed his bare chest on her sheer bra and hardened nipples.

But he wasn’t yet satisfied.

With reluctance, he let go of her hands, to help them both properly divest of their bathrobes. All done with a certain amount of frenzy. Robes gone, Stannis pressed himself once more on top of her, not wanting her to have the possibility to escape him.

However, at the feel of her soft skin, he realised that both of them _still_ had _too_ many clothes on.

Earlier he had put on a new pair of boxers before putting on his bathrobe, not wanting to feel too exposed as they ate. Now he cursed the extra barrier.

Grinding his covered engorged member against her, his hands caressed the soft skin still some what hidden by her bra, travelling to remove the article. After freeing her breasts, one of his hands moulded against one the offered mounds. The other continued to move south till it reached her hip. He gripped her underwear. He half tugged it down, half ripped off of her, not caring what happened to the material.

She moaned as her skin felt his as he removed his own piece of clothing, freeing his member.

As his lips were still on her neck, he could feel the erratic rhythm of her pulse.

Her fingers, now free, scratched, buried into his back.

One of her legs moved and enclosed itself around his hip.

 

His hand, having finally removed his boxers, went back up, to his goal. As his fingers parted her lips, Stannis growled against her throat discovering her sex was unquestionably wet, ready for him. His thumb circled her clit, as he placed two fingers within her. They moved inside her, delving in and out of her before opening and stretching her – _Fuuucckkk, she’s definitely ready_...

Her own cries above him only confirmed this more.

Without even asking, her thighs were now fully opened to him, allowing his hand to move away. It was quickly replaced by his rock hard member, as his hand gripped her hip instead.

Loving the new position Stannis slid his arousal against her soaked lips.

 

“S _ttaanniissss, pleasseee._..”

 

... With his name on her lips, his hand lifted her hip the smallest amount before he plunged into her with urgency.

 

-“ _Ahhh!”_

 

At the movement and at the sound of her cry, he bit her neck.

Her back arched forward.

Her nipples rubbed against his chest.

Her nails imbedded themselves further into his skin.

But nothing registered more than the sensation of him within her. She still felt just as tight and as perfect as the last time.

Maybe even better.

Not giving himself proper time to recover from his initial assault, Stannis thrust into her again more fully, before repeating the process.

In response, she held him close. One of her hands travelled from his back to his head, twisting and tugging his short hair.

 _Fuck..._ he loved when she did that.

 

Tilting his hip, he increased his force, ramming into her further.

Encouraged by the movement, he felt her holding him closer, her hips meeting his.

Panting, he moved his lips to meet hers once more.

All too soon, he felt her panting beneath him in desperation, just before her body quivered violently.

 

 _-Uuggghhh_!!

 

As she let out a moan, his eyes met her darkened ones.

However, Stannis was definitely not finished with her just yet. She had made him wait too fucking long for this.

Instead he lifted her legs higher against his hips, her knees now more or less at the same level with his shoulders, allowing him to go deeper into her heat.

Raising himself away from her, the angle proved even more advantageous, as he plunged again.

Over and over, he drove into her.

Again and again, the rhythm of his thrusts relentlessly increasing with her cries.

 

Her body clenched a second time; though this time, she threw her head back as she cried his name.

“ _SStttaaannnniiiisss_...”

She throbbed around him, pulling him deeper into her, until Stannis let go with a gruntal cry of surrender and gave himself completely to her. He rocked again and again into her until every last ounce of ecstasy was drawn out of him.

 

He barely had time to move from on top of her, before his eyes closed, the frenzy and restlessness of the last two days having caught up with him.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

Stannis woke lying on the floor, feeling relaxed.

 

Unfortunately the calm feeling didn’t last long: there was no other warm body next to or even near him.

He raised his upper body from his slumber to look towards the bed. However it was empty, undisturbed – still made from this morning.

Definitely no longer feeling cool, calm and collected, Stannis threw the robe half covering him away in frustration.

Even as he quickly glanced at the opened door leading to the ensuite bathroom, he knew it would be dark and empty.

 

 _She fucking left!? AGAIN_!?!

 

As he rushed to put on his pyjama pants, Stannis looked at the alarm clock next to the bed.

 ** _2:10_**  – _Still the fucking middle of the night!?!_      Had the night not as been as satisfactory for her as he had believed? ... In any case, hadn’t he paid her enough to stay?! Wasn’t this her fucking work?!?

 

Rushing out of the master suite, he started calling out, fuming: “Davos! ... Davos?! ... DAVOS!?!”

 

Davos came bursting out of the other end of the corridor, alert, gun in hand.

Frustrated, Stannis barked: “Put that fucking gun away... we’re not under attack! She’s _gone_! She _fucking_ left. How could she leave without at least one of you not knowing?! _fucking_ FIND her!?!

 

If his friend was shocked either by his general composure – or lack thereof - or by him using the word ‘ _fuck’_ not once but several times, he didn’t show it. Instead, Davos rushed back into his room, as he speed dialled someone on his phone – probably someone else on his incompetent security detail.

Within moments Davos came back into the room, with a tablet in hand, looking somewhat confused.

Looking from the tablet to Stannis, Davos took too long to explain his puzzled expression that Stannis was unable to stop himself from growling once more: “What is it? Where the fuck is she?!”

Davos, looking a little sheepish, calmly answered: “The tracers on her phone indicates that she’s still _here_ , in the penthouse...or at least it is...”

 

Stannis turned to the entrance, his gazing scrutinizing the space.

Davos’s information proved correct when he noticed her purse on the commode where she had left it, ages ago, before following him into the master bedroom for their ‘dinner’.

After a small moment, of him checking inside the bag: phone, money, and not much else, he turned back to Davos, confused himself.

Thankfully his friend came to a decision: “I’ll go check the other rooms.”

After giving him a brief nod, Stannis was left alone in the entrance. It was then that he remembered where Miss Stone had gone last time he couldn’t find her: the outside pool.

 

Moving brusquely to the outdoor balcony, he quickly found his quarry. She was silently lying, asleep, in one of the chaises-longue.

She looked so peaceful; her body curled some-what on itself, her long hair fanning out and falling over the edge of the recliner. She had covered herself in one of his shirts, but most of her legs and some of her chest were visible, her porcelain skin glowing in the moonlight.

He sighed as he crouched down next to her, and brushed off a few strands of her hair from her face.

Stannis didn’t understand the appeasement he felt within himself upon seeing her lying serenely in front of him. Instead of indulging such thoughts, he carefully picked her up in his arms, and led them back inside.

 

He met Davos inside.

 

However, instead of addressing his friend, Stannis moved past him, back to his bedroom, with his siren cradled in his arms.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to stop the chapter before Davos checked his tablet, and Stannis found her sleeping by the pool, but thought it was too much of a cliff-hanger for my devoted readers, so I decided to be nice and not have you worry ;)


	9. Chapter 9 - ... just looking for all emergency exits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa wakes up.

 

_She was running in the woods...._

_The trees moved either side of her as her pace quickened._

_... the only light was from the moon above her._

_... she could feel the soft moss below her padded feet._

_... another wolf was running as well._

_.... running beside her._

_... run... run...run..._

_... run... run...run..._

_... suddenly the other wolf disappeared._

_... she continued to run alone._

_... run... run...run..._

_Suddenly she wasn’t running any more._

_The moon wasn’t shining above her._

_It was dark._

_She was in that room._

_Ramsay’s dark room._

_The one he had told her never to enter..._

_... there was blood everywhere._

_She had blood on her hands._

_She had a gun in her hand._

_Someone was yelling._

_Ramsay was yelling._

_Blood was coming from Ramsay._

_Blood was coming from Ramsay’s leg._

_Blood was covering Theon._

_Blood was coming from the woman on the floor._

_Blood...Blood... Blood..._

 

_She needed to run._

_... run... run...run_...

 

 

_\- Huunnnhhhhh_!!!

 

Sansa gasped out of her dream in terror. She quickly looked around her. - _No_ , she was fine. Ramsay wasn’t there, Myranda wasn’t there, Theon wasn’t there.

 

Sansa continued to look in the darkened room, as her heart rate slowly decreased.

She had been lying on the floor, with Stannis Baratheon sleeping next to her. Finally a little calmer, she silently thanked herself for not having woken Stannis up. He would probably think she was crazy.

Maybe she was. Anyone who spent too long around Ramsay, or thinking about Ramsay too much, was bound to go crazy.

 

Her body had settled down, but she still felt the effects of the dream. She could feel the sweat running down her back. Her hair was damp. She knew that her face was paler than usual.

Slowly, Sansa got up from the floor, and headed for the bathroom. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she rinsed her face in the sink, before looking into her reflection in the dark.

She looked like a ghost.

 

Myranda was the true ghost... haunting her. She hadn’t had that dream in over a year. The gun. Seeing Mr Seaworth's gun must have triggered it. Or maybe it was the fact that she was moving soon... running once more...

 

Thinking about her past, and her possible future, Sansa suddenly felt hot... trapped... She needed air...

She needed to go outside... She needed the moon above her...

 

Coming back into the master bedroom, she quickly went to the wardrobe, and took one of the shirts that were hanging. After pulling it on, Sansa gave a quick glance at the man lying on the floor before heading to the outside deck.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The sun was coming up when she next woke up.

 

Sansa blinked, disoriented. _What the hell_ -

Her eyes went wide as Sansa realised she was in the Businessman’s bed. - _Shit_! _I need to go_!... _I need to go now_!

 

Thankfully the man wasn’t there. Hopefully he had already left for work. – _One can hope_....

Still in his shirt, she quickly looked for her clothes. Sansa soon she realised her underwear was torn beyond repair, and that her dress was not here... probably still by the pool where she had left it.

She quickly put on her bra, underneath his shirt, with a certain amount of twisting required. Feat accomplished, Sansa put on her shoes and then rushed out of the room, down the corridor, to the outer deck. Arriving, she quickly found the abandon garment, and slid it on, once more under the shirt, once more with twisting involved.

 

Once moving back inside, to retrieve her purse - _and get the fuck out_ – Sansa saw both Stannis and Mr Seaworth standing outside one of the room. – _Is he his sidekick or something_?

Neither of them looked happy though.

They actually looked like they were in the middle of an angry exchange. Not wanting to get in the middle of whatever was going on, Sansa moved to her purse. Checking everything was still inside; she took out the phone, ready to call her cleaning job to warn them she wouldn’t be able to make it as soon as she was in the penthouse lobby. She then proceeded towards her destination.

 

She gave them a soft wave, as she called out: “Have a nice day.”

 

It seemed as if it was only then that they realised that she was there; leaving.

 

Suddenly Stannis hustled the few steps to her. Blocking her from the door Sansa had just put her hand on, Stannis demanded: “Are you on birth control?”

Sansa immediately let go of the handle and took a step back, taken aback by the question: “What?”

“You have to be on something?” He asked again, with what seemed to be a bit of desperation in his voice.

However, from Sansa’s lack of response, he seemed to know the unspoken answer. He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “Are you telling me you only work three weeks a month?” – _I work as a house cleaner... and never (except for the last three days) have sex_...

“What has this got to do with anything?” she demanded.

“I came in you!” He all but yelled.

Sansa lost all blood to her face, her throat clogged up, only allowing her to whisper: “W-what... what you mean you... you came... _in me?_ ”

“Last night! On the floor... after you...you ... flung that cream at me!”

 

There was a moment of silence. Sansa tried to remember the events to the previous night. As the images sunk in, her body started to shake. Her lungs contracted. – _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck_. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I might be pregnant? Pregnant?_

Thankfully, in the middle of her silent ranting a solution came to mind, her eyes widened: “Morning after pill! I’ll just take one!”

 

But by then Stannis didn’t seem to be listening to her anymore. He was talking to his sidekick: ‘ _Grumpy-Man’_.

 

“... she’ll need to do a general check up as well.: to make sure I didn’t catch anything-“

 

Not at all liking his comment, she growled loudly: “-I’m clean.”

\- Shae had insisted she go to the “agency physician” for an exam. Not seeing any reason not to, Sansa had gone.

 

They both looked back at her, as Stannis replied with narrow eyes: “The agency is emailing your results now. But I’m still going to insist the doctor take tests of her own.”

Sansa frowned in confusion: “The doctor?”

“The one that’s coming here. For you.”

Sansa took another step back, as her eyes widened in alarm: “For me?”

He sneered in return: “Yes, _for you_. You really think I trust you to ‘ _take a morning after pill’_ yourself?... Please I’ve heard enough stories about women entrapping rich men to not be so gullible...If you think to trap me with a child, you couldn’t be more wrong!”

 

\- _What the fuck! The fucking nerve of the man_!

 

That’s how he saw her: a greedy _fucking_ prostitute! She was _fucking_ out of here; she would get her own _damn_ pill, and put all this _shit_ behind her.

“I don’t want a kid, much less your kid!” Sansa growled, as she strode towards the door once more.

However he blocked her again.

“You really think I’m letting you leave? When you could even now be pregnant with my child?!”

 

With that, he fastened his large hand around her arm, pulled her down the corridor, and forced her into his bedroom.

“We’re going to fix this my way.”

Inside, he quickly snatched her phone from her hand – _What the_?! - before closing the door, and locking it.

 

_I should have fucking ran_...

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

_This is a fucking mess_...

 

 

He stared out over the ocean. A storm was rolling in, backlit by the rising sun. – _So different from the storm last night_...

 

Stannis felt like Robert.

 

_Robert_...who had several children running around Westeros.

 

Robert had always enjoyed _fucking_.

When Lyanna Stark had decided to run off and become Rhaegar Targaryen’s second wife, instead of being Robert’s only wife, Robert, convinced that there was no other woman for him, decided to never marry. However, the prospect of being an eternal bachelor seemed to have only encouraged him more into _fucking_. _Fucking more and more._

And a few times it had come to _fuck_ him right back. _Three_ times to be exact.

Stannis believed there were probably more women out there, with one of his children, but there were three women who had come to Robert with a child he had fucked into the world. He loved all his three children: Edric, Mya and Gendry. But for at least one of them, Stannis was sure the woman had gotten pregnant on purpose.

 

_\- And now I’m the fool_...

 

He was a fool because of his own stupidity. Part of him knew that Alayne hadn’t done anything wrong. If anything he was in the wrong: he was the one who had come inside her, who had forgotten the condom. – _No!_ They had _both_ forgotten the condom.

He also remembered another kind of panic: the panic that had run within him when Alayne had reached for the front door. – He still didn’t understand it, but he knew that the dread that had gone thru him had been more than just the possibility of her carrying his child.

... The feeling had been closer to the anxiety he had felt last night, when he hadn't been able to find her-

 

\- Davos joined him.

 

“The doctor has arrived.”

 

Stannis nodded.

 

Davos opened his mouth again, to add something, but Stannis cut him off: “Later. Let’s see to the doctor first.”

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

“Are you happy now? Can I finally leave?”

 

Sansa had agreed to let the ‘ _Gynaecologist for the Rich_ ’ to examine her, take her blood, and then administer a morning after shot. – _Gods the man is paranoid_.

Once the doctor was done with her examination, she had left Sansa alone, to go and talk with _Mr Fucking Businessman_ , whilst ‘ _Grumpy-Man_ ’ had come in and kept his narrowed eyes on Sansa.

 

When the doctor had left and Stannis had finally returned, Sansa was ready to get the _fuck_ out.

“ _Happy_? No. _Satisfied_? Yes.”

She held out her hand, and tried to keep the most civil tone as she replied: “Can I _please_ have my phone back now. I wish I could say this was enjoyable...”

However, he shook his head: “You don’t get to leave so easily. I’ve mitigated the damage, but we still have things to sort out.”

 

_...things to sort out_?!

 

“You know what: consider the phone a parting gift.”

Fully about to combust now, Sansa grabbed her purse closer, and bolted down the corridor for the door, yanking it open.

In the lobby, there were two suited men, holsters visible.

 

Trying to ignore the men as much as the guns, Sansa passed them and reached the elevator call button; pressing it repeatedly.

Nothing happened.

Sansa had a sinking suspicion that she would need a key from now on to get off the penthouse floor.

The locked stairwell door only confirmed this further.

 

Turning back around, the two men only stared at her, not saying anything.

 

Sansa marched back inside and met Stannis Baratheon in the main living space: “You can’t do this!”

In a very calm voice, he replied: “As I said: we still have things to sort out. The morning after pill is not a 100% effective, especially when time passes between... . In any case, I will also need to wait for the results of your exam.”

Sansa couldn’t believe what she was hearing: “What do you mean ‘ _wait for the results_ ’?”

Stannis looked at her as if she was simple: “You will stay here, until the pregnancy test can confirm you are not pregnant, and that your and my tests can confirm that you didn’t _give_ me anything.”

 

Her eyes darting around the room in panic, Sansa rushed to one of the penthouse phones, pressing ‘ ** _9_** ’ for an outside line. “I’m calling the agency. They won’t allow this!”

“None of the phones will call outside the hotel. No Wi-fi. No internet. No Communication. As for the agency: Chataya’s agency is known for being the most discreet and the most valued escort service in Kings Landing. She was more than happy to assist me with this matter, as well as being more than ready to give me your body on a silver platter.”

 

Sansa pinched her nose, not knowing if she was ready to yell or cry: “For fuck sake!”

Murmuring to herself she then added: “This isn’t happening... not happening.”

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

After Alayne had calmed down somewhat, she had then proceeded to lock herself in one of the other rooms.

 

In the mean time, Stannis had contacted the office, and had informed a shock-sounding Justin Massey that he would not be coming in today; all his meetings were to pushed to the next week, even if it meant he had to stay an extra day in this infernal city.

He was now trying to concentrate on one of the Mainland contracts, when Davos came in.

 

Looking up at his friend’s concerned face, Stannis asked: “Every alright?... Has ... has she come out?”

 

Sighing, his friend spoke calmly: “No. She’s still in her room.”

After a long pause, Davos spoke again: “Stannis... we need to speak about... about these last few days-“

“-I made it clear the matter was not up for discussion. In fact there is _nothing_ to _discuss_. I’ve never known you to need to hear something twice.”

 

Ignoring his friend’s insistent expression, Stannis moved the discussion: “Any new information about Miss Stone?”

“Not much. She is very new to the agency. We were able to find out that her profile was only put up on Sunday. The agency’s information only confirmed this: she used to be an independent, in Gulltown.” After an awkward cough he added: “ _Hunm_...P-platinum Level.”

Stannis gave a small groan. – He didn’t know much about escort levels, but he assumed, from his own experience mainly, that platinum wasn’t one of the low ones.

“I have sent two of my men up to Gulltown, to find out more.”

 

After another dry cough Davos added: “ _Hunm_ \- I had also ran a fingerprint scan last night. It finally came back, but with no matches.”

 

Another pause.

 

Neither man spoke for quiet some time, till Davos asked: “How long do you intend for Miss Stone to stay as your ... _guest_?”

“I cannot let her go until the tests are confirmed.” The reply not sounding convincing in his mind.

Sighing, Davos pushed: “You can’t keep her here, not against her will. Even if you do pay her... her _fee._ ”

Stannis gritted his teeth: “This is the second time I have to repeat myself to you: I can’t let her go till the tests are confirmed.”

Davos only pushed back: “And I’ve come to remind you of the man you are.”

 

Stannis stayed silent at his desk, looking at the papers in front of him.

 

Shoulders slumped, he stated: “She will stay here, to be treated as the highest of guests, until the tests are confirmed. Once they are delivered, then she will be free to do what she pleases.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fingerprints and other CSI stuff: For this story, I'm just going to assume/say the forensics level of analysis in modern Westeros is closer to what it was 10 years ago than to what it is now.  
> Also want to say: when Sansa married and then ran away from Ramsay, she was barely 18. Fingerprints are only asked for adults, and - as stated before - since forensics aren't at their highest, especially even less 4 years ago, she never had them taken. So no, the system doesn't have our lovely Sansa on file :)


	10. Chapter 10 - ...just reassessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's thoughts on her current predicament and is reminded more of her first 'sticky' situation....

 

Sansa locked the door of the extra bedroom still trying to process what had just happened.

 

 

She had been just about to leave when Stannis Baratheon had stopped her and had brought a lovely piece of information her way.- _How could he –...they – have forgotten to put protection on_?!

Then he had proceeded in acting like a _red-blooded domineering ass_ and had taken her phone and had locked her in his room!

She had done the requested – _more like forced_ – doctor examination and had taken the morning-after pill.

Yet the _fucking ass_ still wouldn’t let her leave...

 

Sansa felt flushed and shaky...

She gripped her arms and her shoulders hunched forwards as the full enormity of her situation dawned on her: she would be here, in this lovely penthouse _prison_ , for the un-foreseeable future. Instead of the future of her leaving Kings Landing for another city in a week.

Sansa could feel the panic rising within her, holding her body stiff as her eyes moved around the room looking for some _magical_ way out.

She fought the overpowering temptation to scream.

 

_Spatter...spatter...spatter..._

 

The padding of rain brought Sansa’s gaze to the windows. She rushed to them and as they opened, the air and rain rushed in. Standing at the edge of the room, Sansa let her body be covered by the elements...

Eyes closed she felt like she could finally breathe.

 

_No...._

Eyes closed, she breathed in, willed her whole body to become calmer, and reflected:

_No... This is NOT the moment to panic_...

– Panic would resolved nothing and would just be a waste of time.

 

Opening her eyes once more, Sansa placed her hands on her head and looked skyward before a small laugh rose to her lips. – It was either that, or cry at the irony of the situation.

The Gods were truly mocking her ... _or maybe they are mocking my charming husband_ : Ramsay, who turned out to have an actual cellar-prison room for Theon [ _and probably others before him]_ , wanted all that her name and fortune offered, had never locked her up. - _Or at least, he hasn’t yet been able to..._

Whereas this man – who obviously had more money than sense - had been able to detain her as his ‘ _guest’_ , for no other reason than his own whimsy.

 

Sighing she knew a clear mind was essential: it was time to be practical, not to fall down in fear. If she had been able to lock up Ramsay and evade him and his goons for four years, surely she would be able to get out of this mess soon.

 

Looking around her, and then down at herself, Sansa realised that she didn’t smell the best, that she was still wearing Stannis’s shirt above last night’s dress and that she still wasn’t wearing any underwear.

 

First things first: a shower, and then probably some new clothes. – _To the en-suite bathroom it is_!

 

Once in the bathroom, Sansa shed her clothes and properly looked at herself in the mirror.

 

She definitely did not look her best: her hair was chaos, having been quickly tied in a messy bun as she had tried to rush out earlier... and: _is that a bit of cream in my hair? ...great... yep, definitely need to wash it..._

Sansa then studied her face: she definitely looked paler, her eyes looked a little tired – _but that’s as per usual-_ and she also had quite swollen lips...

Placing her fingers on her mouth she thought of the events of the previous evening.

Slowly, her hand lowered, going to her neck, shifting the few strands of hair out of her way.

- _Well isn’t that lovely_...

A small scowl formed on her face as she noticed the bite mark at the base of her neck. Then Sansa couldn’t help but blush as she remembered the moment Stannis had bit her – _marked_ her: right when he had first thrust into her...

And to make matters even more ‘ _charming_ ’, there were a few more blemishes all over her body, where Stannis had placed his lips.

At the memory her thighs tingled and she properly realised that they were, in fact, a little sore from the _vigorous nocturnal activity..._

 

Sighing, knowing a more furrow inspection would only embarrass her more and would not be productive in anyway, she moved to the shower and turned it on. As the water poured on her, Sansa moaned out: _Gods... that feels amazing... definitely better than some cramped up shit shower waiting for me back in my apartment._..

_Hopefully it will drown all my problems_... - _a girl can dream_...

 

As she washed her hair, Sansa thought over her first ‘ _tight’_ situation; of how she had been able to lock Ramsay in his own torture chamber - leg bleeding – with a wailing Theon and Myranda’s dead body for company.

Running out, she had packed as much as possible, essentials only, then had gone to town and had taken as much cash as possible and before driving her car, as fast as legally possible, south.

It had only been once on the road for an hour or so that she decided to call Mr Luwin.

Since her dad was a boy, Mr Luwin had been the family lawyer, and a great help in all family problems. – This had definitely been a _family problem_.

More on the matter, Mr Luwin had always been wary of the Boltons.

However, he hadn’t pressed the matter of her marriage to Ramsay too much. This was especially due to the fact that Ramsay Bolton had helped ‘ _save’_ Miss Stark from the Greyjoys, and that he was somewhat estranged from his father. - Also, let’s not forget that during their short courtship and then marriage, Ramsay had always played the role of the besotted husband to perfection.

During their phone call, Sansa had told him everything: the information she had found about Arya, to then come home ecstatic, wanting to celebrate... and how it had gone all shit storm: going into that room... Theon... Ramsay and Myranda... taking the gun to defend herself... shooting Myranda... locking them all inside... running away...

Mr Luwin had been the calm voice of rationale: ‘ _do nothing_ ’ until they knew what happened to Ramsay and see if he would report it.

They had both assumed – which had been proven correct – that one of Ramsay’s ‘ _friends’_ would eventually find him, before he bled to death, and that Ramsay would not report any of the morning’s events.

Ramsay always did things ‘ _his way_ ’, and had never been one to use the authorities to resolve his problems. In any case, Ramsay probably wanted to keep everything under wraps: not wanting to bring attention to his lovely room or the fact that Theon Greyjoy was still alive...

Mr Luwin had also quickly told her during their conversation that she should probably lose her phone right after their call ended and find a new one as soon as she found a place to lay low.

 

After several hours of her driving south, she had finally stopped at a shady motel on the outskirts of White Harbor. Sansa had quickly checked the news, Seeing nothing about her, or Ramsay, or Theon, she had called Luwin a second time, using her new phone, to another, more secure, number he had given her.

In one afternoon he had worked wonders. Luwin had closed all of Sansa’s joint accounts and had transferred all of her money to Stark Holdings, or placed them in prudent investments.

However as Ramsay’s true nature seemed quite terrifying, and neither Luwin nor Sansa knew what could be expected from her husband, he encouraged her to stay hidden from Ramsay.

He had also encouraged this due to the fact that when Lord Eddard Stark had died the Stark fortune had legally passed to his children. And since, officially, Sansa was now the only Stark still alive; she was his soul heir; as well as being Catelyn Tully-Stark’s sole heir.

Her inheritance was so large it included property in the North as well as the Riverlands and the Vale.

What made matters even more complex was that Sansa had only just turned eighteen [ _with a beautiful wedding for her birthday_ ] and most of her inheritance was already either in investments or trust funds that Sansa couldn’t touch till she was 21 or even 25 in some cases.

Instead, Luwin suggested that Sansa write an ‘ _Official letter’_ , to send to both him, and others in Stark Holdings, stating that ‘ _Lady Sansa Stark-Bolton would be doing a travel-tour of the Realms across the Narrow Sea, starting with the ‘Free-cities’.’_

 

 

As she continued to enjoy the powerful shower, and her thoughts became clearer, Sansa decided that it would probably be best if she would treat this _confinement_ as a holiday of sorts – a pause to bide her time and recharge. Though this definitely did not mean she would have to be amiable to her ‘ _captor’_.

She let out a small chuckle when she realised that the woman whose house she was supposed to clean that morning would probably pissed that Sansa hadn’t shown up. The lady couldn’t even report her as Sansa was an undocumented worker. – In any case, people hated drawing attention to themselves with such matters...

Her smile was wider by the time she ended her shower - _no houses to clean... only need to revise, bide my time, find a way out and ignore a possessive billionaire_.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Drying herself, Sansa started thinking properly on her _current_ situation: a mind chart.

**_Positive_** : She was probably safer here from Ramsay or his goons than anywhere else in Westeros. – Definitely the safest place in Kings Landing at least.

Not that she had ever imagined that staying with a billionaire businessman and his own personal security would be her safest play. Or that she would be hiding out in the most expensive hotel room in Kings Landing.

 

**_Negative_** : she had exams to revise, and then take – thus she need to figure a way out of this place, definitely before Wednesday. Moreover, the longer she stayed, the greater the risk of Stannis or his sidekick finding out more about her.

 

Once the drying was done and her hair had been blow-dried, Sansa went back into the bedroom refreshed but a little dejected: no real solution had come to mind. She had just wasted time remembering the past. – _Concentrate! This is not the time to think of Ramsay_!

As if to reply her stomach grumbled.

 

With her stomach rumbling and clenching Sansa was reminded that she still hadn’t eaten today and most of the previous evening meal had either ended up on her or Stannis or on the floor instead of being eaten. As if a sign from the Old Gods, the thought of food also made Sansa realise something else: the phones.

Stannis had told her the penthouse phones didn’t work for outside the hotel but you could still call _inside_ the hotel: call the main desk.

The first, rather obvious, solution would be to inform the hotel that she was detained against her will inside the penthouse. However that would have the great disadvantage that it would bring attention on her... _and her very recent career choices_... And who knows how the hotel could react to the call...

However at the realisation that she did have some means of communication at her disposal, a small smile crept on her face as a plan started to form.

 

Moving with purpose, Sansa picked up the phone and dialled the front desk. The call done she then took out a piece of paper from the hotel note pad left for guests to use.

 

After a few minutes contemplating, she brought the pen to the piece of paper and started writing.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

.... _Huoupphhh_...

 

Stannis sighed as he put another file down on the coffee table.

 

After several hours of trying to work, he wondered once more why he stayed to work at the hotel. Miss Stone clearly didn’t want to see him – _well... actually she clearly wants to leave_ ... And with her presence close to his, he couldn’t concentrate on anything else but wonder what she was doing on the other side of the bedroom door.

 

What was it about her that made him act so different? – When she was around, or even just in his thoughts, all else seemed to take second to her.

The rational part of him argued that he was only keeping her till he had received the test results, then hopefully he could send her on her merry way. Unfortunately another voice continued to sing a different tune.

 

A ring at the main entrance broke his thoughts.

 

Stannis raised an eyebrow curiously as he watched Davos move to the door. Opening it, one of the hotel’s staff came in with a cart holding of what seemed to be a tray of food, and a set of clothes.

Confused by the delivery, Stannis stood up and walked forwards.

By the time he had reached Davos and the man, his friend seemed to have already started to interrogate the staff on the delivery. The young man, face going a little red, stammered: “T-the lady staying here called for lunch and a change of clothes.”

As Stannis gaze moved back to the cart, Davos actually started looking at it more thoroughly: he inspected the meal – pausing a few moments on the knife - and then the clothes: a pair of jeans and a shirt, cardigan, and underwear.

An unexpected small pang was felt in his chest when he realised that she wouldn’t be wearing his shirt any longer. However it had quickly changed to embarrassment when he remembered what he had done to her previous pair of panties: torn them to shreds as he had been lost in the need to possess her.

 

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

As Sansa waited for her order to arrive she was once again brought back to thoughts of her inheritance and her husband.

 

Now that she was twenty-two she did technically have access to a large part of her inheritance. Unfortunately, she knew, and Luwin had confirmed it, most of it had to be taken in person, or at the very least be signed for, and thus could be easily tracked. – These were just more, and much simpler, ways for Ramsay find her more easily.

On the bright side, Sansa continued, time and time again, to thank the gods that Ramsay couldn’t have access to any of the Stark wealth. In particular, he could not touch Winterfell Manor: the Stark home for the last 1000 years.

Upon Lord Eddard’s death the manor had been partially closed. It had only then been completely emptied to be restored after the fire the Greyjoys had done. Still now the Manor was being renovated, though there were some parts the public could visit, at the ‘ _generosity of Lady Stark-Bolton_ ’.

 

 

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

 

The soft rapping at the door broke her out of her memories. – _Her deliveries, finally_!

 

With a smile, Sansa rushed to open the door to a young man probably only a year or so older than her. He came in rolling a cart with her food as well as the clothes she had requested. Before partially closing the door, she noticed _Grunpy-man_ looming at the entrance, watching both the waiter and her sceptically. She only gave him a small scowl in return that meant to say: _I’m starving. Even in prison, I’d get two hot meals.._.

 

 

Turning her back to him, Sansa gave her full attention and a small smile to her ‘visitor’. She checked his name tag – _Podrick_

With a sweet smile and batting her lashes innocently, she came towards him:

“Thank you very much ... _Podrick_... you can just leave it there.” - indicating a spot near the bed.

 

It took the waiter a few moments to move, as he was staring at her. – Looking down at herself, Sansa realised why he was wearing the oddest face: she was still in just her towel. Acting all flustered, she played the innocent maiden, and stammered an apology for her appearance. Sansa then proceeded in coming closer to him, her hand holding a hopeful solution to her freedom. Batting her eye lashes once more, she said: “Thank you so much.” as she gave him the two hundred dragons and the note tucked inside the bills that he would hopefully see and read once he had left the penthouse:

 

**_Desperate – the older guy with a beard is my dad. basically ive been grounded in this hell hole with no phone! – could you plz save me: just need to a phone. – if you get it I will add another 200 to your tip.- bring it within extra clothes – shirts + underwear. You wud b my SAVIOR_**.

 

She felt a little bit bad for him when he was only able to blush profusely and stammer a small ‘ _thank you_ ’.

The presence of Mr Seaworth at the door edged Podrick to leave, his face still red.

Seaworth gave them a suspicious stare as his eyes went between the boy and Sansa but he did not comment. Once the young man had left, his shoulders visibly relaxed.

 

At the door Mr Seaworth paused.

“Miss Stone...”

Sansa looked up at his face.

The older man seemed at a loss at what to say – even though he definitely seemed to want to say _something_.

“... He... he _is_ a reasonable man... he-“

-Sansa only scoffed at the statement - _reasonable? Really_?!

Mr Seaworth was about to add more, but unable to deal with men or their cronies, Sansa cut him short:

“Thank you Mr Seaworth. If you would be so _kind_ , I would like to change and eat in _peace_.”

“Of course.”

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

Stannis had listened at the door.

 

When Davos had gone out, and had given him an odd questioning look, he had only scowled and gone back to the coffee table and his files.

 

Stannis ran his fingers angrily through his hair. He was reasonable ... _usually_ ...

It was just _her_ : she had done something to him. Part of him knew that once she was gone all would be better; all would go back to normal and he would be in control of himself again. But then he sighed, resistant – he couldn’t let her go... not... not _yet_...

 

As the waiter left the penthouse, Stannis had a small unsettling thought that Miss Stone would possibly flirt with the help to get out. With a scowl, the notion became more substantial when he thought of the conversation he had listened to: it had definitely sounded like she was being quiet friendly with the young-man... and given her profession, and his own experience with her, Miss Stone definitely knew how to handle men...

 

Shaking his head, Stannis willed himself back to his work. He continued to work the rest of the afternoon in the main living-room – _hoping that the lovely Alayne Stone would finally come out_...

However Stannis ended up drifting to sleep.

 

 

 

 

When he woke up, it was dark in the room, the only light came from the night shining through the bay windows.

He quickly realised what had woke him: a figure loomed in the darkness, moving through the room.

 

_Alayne_.

 

At first Stannis had a very crazy -hopeful thought that she had finally come out of her room to see and possibly even speak with him. However, he remained unnoticed in the shadows as she proceeded to walk past and onto to the deck.

 

_\- What is so fascinating about the moon?... why is she always moving to the outer deck?_

 


	11. A small interlude...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not a new chapter, just wanted to show what Kings Landing and the hotel looked liked, as well as Dragonstone Manor and Winterfell Manor

               


	12. Chapter 11 - ... just another tête-à-tête

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's Friday...

 

 

_They were walking along the banks of the river, just the two of them. Ramsay and her._

_In the few weeks they had known each other, Ramsay would call on her most days, making sure she was well, not lonely, not worried for her younger siblings who were still missing. He was so considerate that he would also always bring her flowers and always had a smile on his face, trying to cheer her up._

_Unfortunately, Sansa could feel that Ramsay’s mind was elsewhere today; his eyes looked in the distance, his face showing an expression she didn’t recognise and that worried her._

_She frowned.: she didn’t want him worried. Ramsay had always been the perfect gentleman with her: comforting her, making sure her troubles were minimal._

_Sansa had already wondered several times if dad would have thought Ramsay Bolton was worthy enough for her: ‘someone brave, gentle and strong’... Ramsay had proved all these things to her already, but would all those things have of been enough for Ned Stark?_

_She then wondered if she could now do something to hopefully lift his troubles away – at least for a little while._

_Thankfully an idea soon formed in her mind. - Ramsay had once asked if he could kiss her. She had been too shy back then, they had only just met, but now..._

_Now she wondered how she would go about it. Sansa never had much experience with boys; just a few small kisses in school. Looking over at him, Sansa secretly hoped Ramsay would be a better kisser than the boys she had shared small pecks with._

_She then remembered Jeyne’s advice about boys: ‘give him a taste, take charge, but don’t give him too much either. Leave him wanting more...’_

_Resolved in her decision, Sansa stopped, hoping this would work._

_Ramsay promptly stopped a pace later and looked at her questioningly. Before any words were uttered though, she grabbed him by the lapel of his jacket and firmly placed her lips on his._

_The few moments of surprise on his part soon passed as she felt him draw her closer, pulling her body flush against his, as he opened his mouth to hers. Both their mouths were soon moulding together as their tongues met. There was a sense of hunger in the way he responded to her kiss. He drew it deeper, more ravenous... Encouraged and a little desperate Sansa returned the kiss with equal ardour. – This was definitely much better than school-boy kisses..._

_Then, impulse took over and Sansa teeth met Ramsay’s lower lip._

_He pulled back in reflex, as he placed his fingers on his bottom lip. Looking at the small amount of red on his fingers, there was surprise in his eyes: “You bit me? I can’t believe you bit me?”_

_Sansa stammered an apology, feeling horrible – she had ruined everything: “I-I’m so sorry Ramsay ... I- I dont kn-“_

_However he only placed the two fingers that still had his blood on them onto her lips._

_His eyes shinned like she had never seen before: “-There is nothing to apologise for. You just surprised me that’s all. And I’m not easily surprised.” He grinned further as he stepped closer to her again: “You **are** a little she-wolf after all, aren’t you?... **my** little she-wolf.”_

_Sansa blushed at the endearment. More shyly she replied: “...y-yours? ... Do you truly care for me Ramsay?”_

_His grin greatened as he grabbed her more firmly by the hips, bringing her against his hard chest as he half-growled: “Yes my lady... you are mine...all **mine**... **my** little she-wolf... but I feel I should warn you: I am not good at sharing.”_

_The statement sent a thrill down Sansa’s spine._

 

 

\- Sansa woke up with a similar thrill going down her spine. However this time she knew it had nothing to do with excitement...

Ever since she had spotted Damon a week ago the worry and the dread of her husband had come back tenfold. ... And with them so had the memories...

Sitting up on the bed, slowly waking up, she frowned.

Actually - it was ever since she had met Stannis Baratheon that the dreams had been much more frequent... But then again, shaking her head, Sansa acknowledged that she always got more nightmares about Ramsay right before she left a city.

 

Sighing she slid from the sheets surrounding her and went to the bathroom for a glass of water.

 

Back in the spare bedroom, she spied the clock: **_01:20_**

Hopefully her jailor was in bed by now.

 

Sansa putt on the cardigan over the T-shirt she was wearing and then moved silently to the door. Cautiously she opened it and then sighed in relief: the corridor and main living space were filled with darkness and silence. – It seemed that _Mr Businessman_ had indeed retired for the evening.

 

Still moving carefully, Sansa moved further down the corridor and through the open living room, to then walk on the outer patio.

Looking out into the night, she felt the cool breeze on her face. She sighed, feeling a little calmer. Part of her wished she was back at Winterfell Manor right now, looking out from her room towards the Godswood.

This was supposedly the start of winter – the season truly starting on the day of the Hour of the Wolf – but, having grown in the North, Sansa did not feel the least bit cold. She had always hated the cold winter nights growing up, but now she longed for them.

 

The silence was soon interrupted though by a voice coming from behind her: “Can’t sleep?”

At the sound of _his_ voice, Sansa started to move away. -

“- I’m sorry.”

Caught off-guard by the words, Sansa felt herself brusquely turn back to face Stannis: “What?”

Looking dejected Stannis once more apologised: “I-I wanted to apologise... for the way I acted this morning – I was ... I was caught unaware... last night, as well as this morning... and in consequence, I treated you horribly and judged you unfairly.”

Not moving from her spot, Sansa couldn’t help but ask hopefully – even though she could already guess the answer: “Does that mean you’ll let me go come sun rise?”

Looking away, Stannis sighed: “No... I’m sorry – again- but I can’t ... I can’t let you go.... not until the tests-“

“- yes, the tests.” She scoffed in return.

His voice void of emotion, Stannis replied: “Trust me; I would like this put behind me as soon as I’m able to.”

Sansa rolled her eyes – _rule 5 : Don’t ever trust anyone. Especially a man...and by the Gods had he proven it right..._ \- “Last time I trusted my older-man date I ended up being prodded and examined from every angle.”

 

After a moment of silence, Stannis replied, looking straight at her:

“Funny you should mention me being an older man. When the doctor spoke with me, after the ... _examination_ , she informed me you probably had just barely hit your twenties.”

Looking away, Sansa tried to keep a cool voice: “I never said I was twenty-five.”

“You do look young, but your confidence made me believe you were older..."

He pinched the bridge of his nose: “How old are you?”

 

_No response._

 

He insisted: “Tell me.”

In a voice that sounded so small, as if she is replying from being told off by her father, Sansa replied: “Twenty-two.”

“When I was twenty-two...” He seemed about to say something but then with a sigh he said: “When I was twenty-two, you were eleven.”

Sansa frowned: “That sounds like a _you_ problem.”

He didn’t answer, instead he prompted another question: “Why do you always come outside during the night?”

 

Sansa just shrugged.

 

“Insomnia?... Nightmares?”

Frustrated that he had guessed correct, she replied: “I thought we had agreed no personal questions – you don’t hear me asking you why you are up?”

“Because I wanted to apologise.”

“And now you have.” Sansa retorted.

 

Looking a little dejected, Stannis nodded as he answered: “Yes... yes I have.”

And with that he turned and moved back inside.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 _Clunk_ -

-Sansa woke up with a jolt to the sound of something being place next to her.

 

Opening her eyes she noticed a mug next to her face with what smelt like coffee coming from it.

 

_“Good morning.”_

Feeling a little groggy, Sansa didn’t reply. Instead she righted herself on the lounge chair, before taking a first sip of the welcomed drink. Sitting of the adjacent deck chair, she then noticed Stannis studying her:

“Are you going to tell me about your late night strolls on my balcony now?”

Still feeling groggy, she only gave a groan. It was only after a few more gulps, Sansa asked:

“What time is it?”

“It’s past ten-thirty... I was thinking of heading to the office soon.”

As Sansa didn’t reply on the comment, Stannis seemed to muse on his earlier question as he replied:

“I suppose you always sleep during the day... must be an occupational trigger... night-owl due to your work.”

Sansa sighed: “You keep thinking you know things about me. Yet you are always so wrong. It’s probably best if I consider last night’s apology a _general_ apology: for all things you have said, as well as all those _lovely_ things you will say to me in the future.”

 

Stannis opened his mouth to reply _-_

 _\- H_ owever finally woken up by the coffee, Sansa abruptly rose for the deck and headed back to her new room; more specifically to her ensuite bathroom. As long as she was in this ‘tower’, she would enjoy all the available amenities: free toiletries, unlimited hot water and all the towels she could possibly use. – _and not having to clean behind me...or for anyone else_...

 

Looking at herself in the mirror, Sansa knotted her hair on top of her head, and washed her face and teeth, needing to feel more refreshed.

Still feeling un-settled, she jumped in the shower.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . .

 

 

By the time Sansa was all cleaned, and more relaxed, in her new clothes it was past eleven.

 

Just like the previous night, she quietly opened her door and looked around:

Silence. Emptiness. – _Perfect_...

 

Moving cautiously into the corridor and towards the living space she met no-one. Sighing in relief, she sat down of the sofa. Looking around her, Sansa noticed a few files lying on the coffee table – _Mr Businessman’s for sure_...

Looking at them, curiosity got the better of her and, hesitantly, she took the top business journal and started reading it as she stretched out onto the sofa.

 

She was looking through the third one, comparing what she was reading to what they had learnt in class, when the doorbell rang.

With a jolt - hoping it was the waiter from yesterday - Sansa rushed to the front door. As it opened, she couldn’t help but smile as she recognised the person on the other side: _Podrick_. – _perfect_...

He blushed in response, as she let him: “He-here are _all_ the additional things you requested.”

Looking at the clothes, Sansa’s grin widened – _double perfect_...

Grabbing the pile, Sansa moved to her room, calling back: “That’s great. Thank you so much. Let me get you your tip.”

 

Once in the room, she quickly checked through the clothes, and – _yes_! : In the pile was the requested phone – _Perfect Podrick_....

 

The smile was still on Sansa’s face, thanked the young man once more and gave him another generous tip, before leading him out and closing the door on the red-faced bell-hop. However her happiness was short lived when: turning around, she came face to face with Mr Seaworth.

“Oh!- Mr Seaworth, y-you startled me.”

He looked from her to the door suspiciously, giving her a curt nod: “Miss Stone.”

As Sansa continued to look at him, her heart pacing a little faster, as he inquired: “One of my men informed me you received another delivery?”

Insides still squirming, Sansa gave her most innocent smile as she answered: “Yes... I had asked for more clothes yesterday when the young man had brought me the first ones. – I thought it best to have additional clothes, seeing as I have no idea how long I’ll be a _guest_ here.”

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

**_“So it’s true? The monk won’t let you make calls?”_ **

“He’s holding me prisoner.”

 ** _“Wow!- other women would kill to be in your position!”_ ** – _Ramsay would also kill for me for being in this position_...

 

After a brief pause, Shae asked: **_“What happened to cause your...um... imprisonment?”_**

“He’s totally obsessed and unreasonable! He thinks I tried to trap him with a kid...”

The lothraki voice sounded confused: _**“What?”**_

Embarrassed by how quickly Shae’s rules had gone out the window, Sansa gave an awkward cough as she explained, rubbing her temple: “...we... the second night, we had unprotected sex... and I’m not on any form of birth control... it was a heat of the moment type thing... _both_ of us forgot about protection...”

She heard of a sigh at the other end: “ ** _... well Aly, I have heard several stories about escorts who ‘accidentally’ had a condom break – after they ran a pin through the client’s condom pack.”_**

Sansa gasped incredulously: “You serious?! That’s _sick_...”

**_“It’s not_ common... _but as escorts get older... they feel if they don’t wed a wealthy man, they probably have to live off their savings...”_**

Sansa gaped: “... wow... would... would you do it? Have you considered it?”

Shae chuckled in response: **_“I might have thought about it once... but I now have the opposite problem.”_**

Sansa’s brows came together: “Excuse me?”

_**“One of my clients... you know one of the Lannisters I told you about... he wants me to become his permanent mistress.”** _

Sansa wasn’t sure if she should feel happy or insulted for Shae: “Wow... sounds like ... quite a proposal... he sounds like such a romantic...”

**_“Hahaha... you have no idea...”_ **

Going back to the previous topic, Sansa reinforced her stance: “For the record: I did not set out to get pregnant.”

_**“Still an option though... still next time.”** _

The idea made Sansa nauseous: “Shae... when I thought I could be pregnant, it was like being punched in the stomach. A kid is definitely the last thing I need right now.”

_**“So what did he do?”** _

“Mr paranoid hot-shot demanded a full body exam, loads of body tests and a morning after pill administered by a doctor of his choosing... – felt like a one of those lab-rats you see in science documentaries.... Still I’m relieved. Can’t believe I was so stupid, so _careless_.” – _new rule: don’t do anything stupid_...

Shae furthered the conversation: _**“Oh... speaking of paranoid: the monk’s number two called me: he asked me loads of questions about you.”**_

 _Grumpyman_! – Sansa gulped, afraid to ask: “What did you tell him?”- _did you tell him I clean your toilet_?...

_**“As little as possible: it was obvious that that’s your intention, so I didn’t want to ruin your plan. And it’s working! I’m telling you: you could land him! And you can count on me** **not to deviate from this plan.”**_

After a small sigh Shae added: “ _ **– Though it’s not like I know much about you anyway. Told him the same thing I told Chataya: that you worked in Gulltown before coming here. I told him you didn’t have a car and you liked to sing... that you were actually really good at it. I also mentioned that you adore me, and have promised to take care of me.”**_

Sansa exhaled a sigh of relief: “Thank you.”

 

_**“So, what’s it like living with the monk in his penthouse? Are you at his beck-and-call?”** _

Sansa scoffed: “No... It’s mainly him insulting me in some way or another and then later trying to repent...”

_**“It can’t be** _ **all _bad.”_**

Thinking about when he wasn’t insulting her, which for the most part was when she was seducing him or they were having the sex, Sansa couldn’t help but blush: “No... not _all_ bad.”

Let’s not forget between the penthouse, Stannis and his own security team, Sansa felt more relaxed and safer than she had in a long time.

 

_**“How’s the sex?”** _

Feeling herself blush harder, Sansa shyly-guiltily answered: “You have no idea...”

Shae gave a throaty laugh: _**“You are**_ **so** _ **lucky.”**_

“Well we’ve stopped with all that for the moment.”

Sounding a little chest fallen, Shae questioned: _**“Oh? Why?”**_

“Because he locked me in his penthouse after being an archaic jack-ass! I didn’t even have any clothes, had to order some from the hotel as if I went on holiday stark naked.”

**_“Oh... you’ll get over it... then you can enjoy your monk some more.-_ Enjoy _the situation, that’s what I say.”_**

Lying back on the bed, looking at the ceiling, Sansa sighed: “ _Enjoying_ it... _enjoying_ him... that would be a problem... I can’t let my guard down.”

_**“... ‘** _ **can’t let your guard down** **?’...** _**seems as if you like him... could you** _ **fall** _**for him?”** _

  – _no... liking him... feeling things for him would only create problems_...

Sansa stuttered, her thoughts muddled: “I...I ... I don’t want to find out! Which is why I can’t stay here long... I just want my _freedom_.”

_**“Why** _ **wouldn’t** _**you want him?...Oh Aly!? are you already involved? Do you already have a man?!"** _

Thinking of her dream from that morning, Sansa gave a humourless laugh. “Yeah. You could say I’m involved with another man.”

_**“Oooohhh... do tell.”** _

Sighing, Sansa tried to push the image of Ramsay out of her mind: “Maybe some other time.”

 

_**“Fair enough. But then you have to think of your end game.”** _

Sansa frowned: “My end game?”

**_“Yes- what you do want to get out of this ‘imprisonment’... the man is well known in Westeros; he’s one of the top businessmen of the realm, his company one of the largest. He must have a few secrets... we could sell a story to the papers ... or go to one of his competitors... You could find out what he is doing in Kings Landing...”_ **

Sansa thought of the reports she had read earlier. From the files it seemed that Mr Baratheon was buying quite a lot of land for housing developments as well as a possible port infrastructure for a shipping traffic for the city...

But then she shook her head.

She was mad at the guy but this she would not do, she was anything but a snitch or nark. – In any case it would break several of her rules. Instead she replied: “He’s just working on his tan.”

 ** _“I see”_** , Shae said with a knowing tone. **_“Well... now that you have a phone, you can call others. Maybe to someone who could do more than smuggle in contraband?”_**

“You’re right. I’ll start the SOS calls... dial everyone I can count on...”

 

After they hung up, Sansa sighed, sinking further into the bed.

– She had already texted a message (blocking her phone number) to Arya and then another one to Luwin saying there was a bit of trouble but nothing she couldn’t handle and that she would contact them soon. Then she proceeded to delete the messages. In any case they were in code.

Apart from that, there was no one else to contact.

 

Sansa let out a small chuckle: _Well, there is one other person: my lovely husband_...

 

 


	13. Chapter 12 - ... just a business issue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis' Friday

 

 

All morning, Stannis was slower in his work.

His concentration was definitely not at his best.

And his mood was not much better.

 

After he had apologised to Alayne last night it had taken him ages to fall back asleep. Which in turn had meant he had arrived late at the office and not well rested.

– Did she not realise what she had compelled him to do? – He didn’t even remember the last time he had truly regretted something... the way he had acted in a given situation. He was always in control of his movements. He always knew the next step. If he made an error, he would acknowledge it and learn from it. But never had he felt the need to feel repentant... much less express this regret to another person.

Yet Miss Stone seemed to only have half accepted the apology.

 

Even this morning she was still reticent to speak with him.

– And then had she wondered why he made his own theories. She had even felt insulted. How could she be mad if she would not do or say anything but leave him to guessing games?! And was it so wrong to assume her sleeping patterns were affected at least at some level by her work schedule? That was the case for most people.

By the Gods he would never understand women!

 

Near mid-day Davos left the office saying there was a matter he needed to attend to. His friend didn’t voice the topic of the issue but Stannis could guess it had something to do with Miss Stone. – She seemed to be the only thing they could not talk about.

However any thoughts or inquiries on the matter were interrupted by a call from Rhaegar Targaryen.

 

“Targaryen. How are things?”

The voice on the phone chuckled: “Rhaegar please. How many times do I have to remind you? – I’m good. Things are going well on our side. How about you? I heard you were unable to be in the office yesterday- I hope everything is alright?”

Rubbing his temples, Stannis tried to keep his voice as normal as possibe: “Of course everything is fine. There was a sudden business issue that needed my attention. Nothing I can’t handle.” – _Hopefully_...

“Glad to hear it. I hope it didn’t give you too much trouble?” – _Not too much yet..._

“Anyway, we have looked through the proposal you sent and it seems sound. A second meeting will help in sorting out the minor details more thoroughly but Mr Seaworth and yourself have done excellent work. Thank you Stannis.”

A little uncomfortable with the praise, Stannis replied: “Well Baratheon Industries has always been fully dedicated in all its various projects.” – _Even those outside the office_...

The head of Tararyen Corporation laughed softly as he replied: “Of course it does. Yet one would be a fool to not notice that some parties seem more _committed_ to certain projects than others. Anyway, I was calling because I was wondering if you would be available next week for a second meeting?”

“Of course, you’re secretary will have to check with mine, but I am pretty sure Wednesday of next week will be possible.”

“Oh – I hadn’t realised you were staying in town an extra day?”

“Yes... since I want to make sure to properly deal with all the different Kings Landing projects I am in charge of, I decided it would be best to stay the extra day.” – _Some projects definitely need to be treated with a direct approach_...

“Like I said ... some are more committed to their projects.”- _yes... and some projects ask for a little more perseverance than others_...

"...and we still have that dinner to plan."

"Yes... yes we do."

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

_Gods it’s been a long day..._

 

The day had been long and tedious and Stannis couldn’t help but feel relieved that he was finally back in the penthouse. – Even if Miss Stone’s room was still closed.

 

Sighing, Stannis put his briefcase down and started loosening his tie. Within moments he noticed Davos come into the master bedroom with a scowl on his face.

 

Raising an eyebrow Stannis asked: “Was the earlier issue resolved?”

“Not entirely.”

“No?”

After a long pause, Davos let out a sigh before awkwardly asking: “Well... do you remember when you appointed me in charge of your security you said nothing against the law.”

Stannis’ eyes narrowed: “yess...”

“Well with Miss Stone I ... we... we have come to a grey area.”

“ _Grey_ area?...” Stannis asked not liking the term one bit. “If this is in reference to her profession-“

“-No Stannis, not in this case. It’s to do with finding out more about her. You did concede that we could use all means available.”

Stannis get frustrated with the conversation, gritted his teeth: “Get on with it Davos: what is this _grey_ area?”

“We were able to bug her room... - this morning, whilst she was sleeping on the deck outside. It’s not _illegal_ as it would constitute a ‘ _private recording in ones ‘temporary home’_ ’... but, technically, Miss Stone could sue for violation of her privacy... then again she is being held here against her will-“

“-she is not held against her will, she is simply a _guest_.” Stannis growled, again trying to convince himself as much as Davos.

Going back to what Davos had previously said, Stannis asked in frustration: “What would this recording tell us any way? She has been alone in her room.” Eyes narrowing, Stannis looked straight into Davos’ brown eyes. “She _has_ been _alone_ in her room?”

“Of course. The previous call was to inform that there was a second delivery for her from the hotel. - But this is what I’m getting at Stannis. We believe that she was able to ... _befriend_ the bell-hop from yesterday and get him to help her.”

Not at all liking the implications of the comment, Stannis frowned: “What do you mean?”

“She was able to get a phone at some point during the day. We believe the bell-hop delivered it with the extra clothes and meal.”

“A phone?”

“Aye.”

Worry ran through Stannis: “Did she call anyone?”

“She seemed to have sent one or two text messages, and then yes, she did call someone: her ... _colleague_ Miss Shae Killi.”

The worry from before suddenly changed into something else – _optimism_ : a new possible benefit to the situation. “Where is the recording? I want to hear it.”

Davos seemed to be taken aback– and maybe even pale a tiny bit - at the request.

“Now Stannis, I was just going to ask you if we should retrieve the phone from her... you... you don’t need to listen to it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Bring it to me.”

“Stan-“

Stannis gritted his teeth: “- Davos, how come I have to repeat myself more and more with you? – What has gotten into you? Now, bring me the recording.”

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 ** _‘So it’s true? The monk won’t let you make calls?’_** – _monk_?...

 ** _‘He’s holding me prisoner.’_** – _not prisoner... guest_.

‘ ** _Wow- other women would kill to be in your position!_** ’

Stannis’ eye brows shot up: _really?_

The Lothraki voice continued: **_‘What happened to cause your...um... imprisonment?’_**

‘ ** _He’s totally obsessed and unreasonable! He thinks I tried to trap him with a kid..._** ’ – _Well, didn’t you?... Robert’s three illegitimate children prove that it’s not unthinkable._

 **_‘What?_ ** _’_

Stannis heard Alayne cough, before she answered awkwardly: ‘ ** _...we... the second night, we had unprotected sex... and I’m not on any form of birth control... it was a heat of the moment type thing... both of us forgot about protection_**...’

Stannis wasn’t able to stop the tint of red appearing on the back of his neck; embarrassed how much he had lost control that night... how much he would lose control when it came to Alayne Stone.

**_‘... well Aly, I have heard several stories about escorts who ‘accidentally’ had a condom break – after they ran a pin through the client’s condom pack.’_ **

**_‘You serious?! That’s sick...’_ **

Whilst Stannis couldn’t help but agree with Alayne statement, he couldn’t also help but feel a little vindicated for not having trusted Alayne with the whole pregnancy incident.

 

 **_‘It’s not common... but as escorts get older... they feel if they don’t wed a wealthy man, they probably have to live off their savings...’_ ** _– Note to self:never to trust an escort..._

**_‘... wow... would... would you do it? Have you considered it?’_ **

**_‘I might have thought about it once... but I now have the opposite problem.’_ **

**_‘Excuse me?’_ **

**_‘One of my clients... you know one of the Lannisters I told you about... he wants me to become his permanent mistress.’_ **

Stannis couldn’t help but be surprised that the Lannisters paid for escorts, especially after what Tywin Lannister had done to his father’s last mistress. Then thinking about it, Stannis wondered if maybe Tyrion, Tywin’s own son, was not the one the Lothraki girl was referencing to.

**_‘Wow... sounds like ... quite a proposal... he sounds like such a romantic...’_ **

At the tone of the answer, Stannis wondered if Alayne actually approved or not of her friend’s proposal. Then another thought that came into his mind out of nowhere: _would Alayne be interested in such an arrangement?..._

‘ ** _hahaha... you have no idea...’_**

**_‘For the record: I did not set out to get pregnant.’_ **

Stannis felt the relief run through him - _Well at least she was telling the truth about that..._

**_‘Still an option though... still next time.’_ **

For some reason Stannis couldn’t explain, the statement didn’t to unsettle him as much as it should have.

**_‘Shae... when I thought I could be pregnant, it was like being punched in the stomach. A kid is definitely the last thing I need right now.’_ **

Stannis frowned – _What’s wrong with having my child?...or is this all children?_...

**_‘So what did he do?’_ **

**_‘Mr paranoid hot-shot demanded a full body exam, loads of body tests and a morning after pill administered by a doctor of his choosing... – felt like a one of those lab-rats you see in science documentaries.... Still I’m relieved. Can’t believe I was so stupid, so careless.’_** – _I’m not paranoid, just cautious ... especially since you weren’t the only one who acted so carelessly..._

**_‘Oh... speaking of paranoid: the monk’s number two called me: he asked me loads of questions about you.’_ **

Stannis remembered when Davos had told him about his conversation with Alayne’s colleague. He had seemed nearly as frustrated as when he had first started looking into Miss Stone. – Clearly both girls were good at their jobs and at keeping things hidden.

**_‘What did you tell him?’_ **

**_‘As little as possible: it was obvious that that’s your intention, so I didn’t want to ruin your plan. And it’s working! I’m telling you: you could land him! And you can count on me not to deviate from this plan.’_ ** _\- Land me?... there is no ‘landing’ me...once...once I get over this... thing and I get the tests results, Miss Stone can go on her mercy way..._

**_‘Though it’s not like I know much about you anyway. Told him the same thing I told Chataya: that you worked in Gulltown before coming here. I told him you didn’t have a car and you liked to sing... that you were actually really good at it. I also mentioned that you adore me, and have promised to take care of me.’_ **

Stannis’ earlier frown depended, confused by several parts of the statement: _Why would Chataya not know about her before as well?... What’s Alayne’s relationship with Miss Shae as well as with the agency?... is she still an independent?_

 ** _‘Thank you.’_** – _No, not thank you! You need to tell us more about your friend!_

 

 ** _‘So, what’s it like living with the monk in his penthouse? Are you at his beck-and-call?’_** \- _If only_...

 **_‘No... It’s mainly him insulting me in some way or another and then later trying to repent...’_ ** _\- I still maintain that I did not insult you this morning... I was just making an observation based on what i know about you... what the very little you have revealed about yourself._

 

 ** _‘It can’t be all bad.’_** – _It isn’t._

After a brief silence, Alayne finally answered: ‘ ** _No... not all bad._** ’ – _Told you..._

**_‘How’s the sex?’_ **

Stannis straightened himself at the question, ready to hear Alayne’s reply. – _Do women really talk about these things?... do they compare notes_?

 ** _‘You have no idea...’_ ** _– What’s that suppose to mean?_

**_‘You are so lucky.’_ **

Stannis started to contemplate the last two replies: _that means its good, right?... it must be better than good if her friend thinks she’s lucky, no?_

 **_‘Well we’ve stopped with all that for the moment.’ –_ ** _Which was definitely not a decision I approved of._

 ** _‘Oh? Why?’_** – _Don’t ask me... I have no idea._

 ** _‘Because he locked me in his penthouse after being an archaic jack-ass!...’_** – _ok... I might be a bit at fault but ‘archaic jack-ass’? Really?... you are a guest in the penthouse suite of the supposedly best hotel in kings Landing!_

**_‘... I didn’t even have any clothes, had to order some from the hotel as if I went on holiday stark naked.’_ **

The image of Alayne staying naked for the rest of her stay popped into Stannis’ mind: _don’t see any problem with that_...

 

 **_‘Oh... you’ll get over it... then you can enjoy your monk some more.- Enjoy the situation, that’s what I say.’_ ** _– Yes, listen to your friend: stop being so bloody stubborn so we can both enjoy this time... then you wouldn’t feel like a ‘captive’._

 **_‘Enjoying it...’_ ** _\- yes._

 **_‘Enjoying him...’_ ** _–yes._

 **_‘That would be a problem...’_ ** _– no, it wouldn’t._

 **_‘I can’t let my guard down.’_ ** _– Yes. Yes, you can._

**_‘... ‘can’t let your guard down?’... seems as if you like him...’_ **

Holding his breath, Stannis attention was now definitely completely focused on the conversation.

**_‘could you fall for him?’_ **

He felt his heart beating a little faster as the pause dragged on.

He noticed the stuttering, as Alayne replied: **_‘I...I ... I don’t want to find out! Which is why I can’t stay here long... I just want my freedom.’_**

Stannis frowned at the reply. - Why didn’t she want to find out?

Thankfully her friend asked the same question:

**_‘Why wouldn’t you want him?...Oh Aly!? Are you already involved? Do you have a man?’_ **

Stannis felt his heart stop. He hadn’t thought of that. Given her profession she obviously had other clients – much to his frustration – but Alayne actually already involved with someone?

**_'Yeah. You could say I’m involved with another man.'_ **

The confirmation felt like he had just been stabbed in the heart.

**_‘Oooohhh... do tell.’_ **

Rage running through him, Stannis wanted the answer as well. He wanted more information about this man. Was he Alayne’s lover or was he more?... Did they scam businessmen together? – _Tell me_ _who this fucker is_?!

 ** _‘Maybe some other time.’_** – _No! Give me a fucking name!_

 

**_‘Fair enough. But then you have to think of your end game.’_ **

Stannis frowned, confused. Clearly so was Miss Stone: **_‘My end game?’_**

**_‘Yes- what you do want to get out of this ‘imprisonment’... the man is well known in Westeros; he’s one of the top businessmen of the realm, his company one of the largest. He must have a few secrets... we could sell a story to the papers ... or go to one of his competitors... You could find out what he is doing in Kings Landing...’_ **

Stannis’ heart had started pounding again, harder than before – _Is this her end game? Spying on my projects?...has this man asked her to scout secrets for him?_

But Alayne’s answer again proved she wasn’t fully untrustworthy: **_‘He’s just working on his tan.’_**

**_‘I see...Well... now that you have a phone you can call others. Maybe to someone who could do more than smuggle in contraband?’_ **

**_‘You’re right. I’ll start the SOS calls... dial everyone I can count on...’_ **

As the two women hung up, Stannis wondered if she was going to call her mystery man now?... would he want to listen to the conversation?... would she tell him the things she hadn’t told her friend?

 

But there was no more sounds coming from the other end. Stannis frowned: _Is that the end of the recording?... Where is the next call_?

Needing answers, Stannis went to Davos’ quarters in the penthouse.

“Where is the next recording?”

Davos looked at him, his face full of worry – clearly he could sense Stannis’ mood: “There is none.”

Stannis raised his eyebrows: “She didn’t call anyone else?”

“No.”

 

Stannis stood silent for a long moment, thinking over the conversation. Then, his voice void of emotion, he spoke: “Find out who this man is.”

“O-of course. We are already looking into it.”

“Good.”

“Stannis. Wh...What are you going to do...now?”

Already turning back to the door, he replied: “I’m going to have a little chat with my guest.”

 


	14. Chapter 13 - ... just a few questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis has a conversation with Alayne

 

After hanging up on Shae, Sansa had thought over the conversation.

She knew on some level Shae was right: she should enjoy her time here. Sansa had even previously thought of it herself: this was her holiday away from her ‘real life’. Away from Ramsay, away from hiding, away from cleaning other people’s homes...

She also thought of her ‘relationship’ – _if you can actually call it that_ – with Stannis Baratheon.

 

She begrudgingly accepted that he had apologised... to a certain extent.

And she couldn't forget the fact that, as Shae had pointed out, his scepticism about the whole pregnancy thing did have some merit and was actually really based on something certain escorts would do. - _Sick desperate ones_...

And he had left her alone – not at all acting like Ramsay... which was always a plus... .

She also conceded that, before he had decided to lock her up, their time together had been enjoyable – in and out of the bedroom.

But in there lied the problem.

 _Trust_... she could definitely not trust the man. Even if there wasn’t rule five, the man had locked her in his penthouse. He wasn’t Ramsay, but the fact still existed that he had acted like such a _red-blooded ass-hat_.

But then , thinking about it, she could use this to her advantage: no trust... not respect... no feelings involved...

As Shae had said: maybe she could just _enjoy it_.

And she would be gone before Wednesday any way... what could he possibly do in such a sort amount of time that would warrant her to change her mind about him?

 

After a moment of growing bored, with nothing to do, Sansa remembered that today was supposed to be her last revision class before the exam next Wednesday.

As she had made it a habit – for safety reasons - to only give her number on very rare occasions – Shae had been the last, _with some regret_ – she neither had Ms Tarth’s number, nor did she have her own phone, for that matter.

And – with Stannis’ 'no communication' rule – she didn't even have a computer to warn the professor that she wouldn’t be able to attend and ask if Ms Tarth could send her the last session’s postscript.

As a ‘ _solution_ ’ she decided to look once more through the business journals she had noticed on the coffee table earlier. – In any case it wasn’t every day that you could look at a real example of business projects. And it didn’t hurt that they were actually all very detailed and thorough. Clearly Mr Baratheon knew his job well... – _Well obviously if he is a billionaire_...

 

 

A knock at the door interrupted her reading.

 

Looking up from the file, Sansa looked at the door intrigued and a little perplexed: she hadn’t ordered anything extra.

She called out: “Come in.”

 

She noticed her heart beat a little faster as Stannis Baratheon appeared from the other side.

However she wasn’t sure if that was in reaction to the scowl on his face.

Thankfully, he seemed taken aback by her posture though as his face seemed to relax a tiny bit at the sight of her lying on the bed.

 

Stepping inside the room, Stannis scanned the room before his gaze fell back on her.

Looking questioningly at the files spread out on the bed, his scowl seemed to have returned: “A little light reading?”

Not sure how to interpret the question, Sansa replied in sarcasm:

“Well all the words with more than three letters are a little difficult to understand but I started reading this morning so I’m on page five now.

In any case if you didn’t want me to read any ‘top secret business mergers’ then you shouldn’t have left them lying around. I was bored and I couldn’t find ‘ _Petyr and the direwolf’_ or ‘ _Jonquil and the three bears’_.”

 

Nodding to her notes, he demanded: “Show me.”

Sansa frowned: “Why?”

“I want to see what you wrote for whomever you were planning to give them to.”

Sansa’s frown depend – _Does he really think I would spy on him?... he’s the one who locked me in here!... then again Shae has raised that possibility... Gods, is everyone in Kings Landing so dishonest?_...

Trying to keep her voice cool, Sansa replied: “I’m not spying for anyone... I was just ... [ _well, can’t really say I am revising for an exam_ ]... just bored. Trust me, I would have read anything.”

“Show me then.” He insisted taking a step closer as well as extending his right hand.

“Fine.”

Sighing, Sansa gave him her definitions and her notes somewhat apprehensively.

To be honest she was worried about giving them to him. Worried what he would think of them: he was a renowned businessman, who based on the files she had read, was really good at his work. Whereas she was just a night-school student for the last three years, trying to finish her degree under the pseudonym: Minisa Rivers.

 

As Stannis started reading, he slowly sunk into one of the chairs. Soon his eyes rose, clearly surprise by the content. But he did not comment he just kept on reading.

He read for much a long time that Sansa started biting her fingers, wondering if all her definitions were wrong? Or if her varying proposals were ludicrous? – Would he think she was just a silly girl trying to do better than him?

 

Finally Stannis looked up, his face unreadable.

He slowly looked from her notes to her and then back to the notes. Clearly he was trying to find the right words to say to her. – _He is probably trying not to insult me again... or maybe he wants to insult me, and is thinking of the best way to_...

 

However, Sansa was surprised when he just asked: “You defined all the words at the top of each section. Why?”

Sansa thought of her answer for a moment. She couldn’t well say that it was because those were the sort of words that they would have on the exam. Instead she replied: “As I said before: I have trouble with big words. I thought it would help to keep their definition close by.”

Stannis gave a small nod but his face showed he was unconvinced. He looked once more through her papers.

“You gave each project a alternative proposal, interesting way to occupy your time.” Looking more closely at one the pages, he then added:

“How come for the Highgarden proposal you suggested Dorne be part of the deal?”

“Renewable Energy.”

Stannis frowned in confusion.

Rolling her eyes, Sansa explained: “Energy that doesn’t have an impact on the environment.”

“I know what renewable energy is. I was wondering what it had to do with this deal.”

“Dorne is full of deserts. They use a large area of this empty land for solar panels... solar energy. If they were involved in this project, it would be beneficial to all three parties. Dorne could exchange its renewable solar energy to both the Reach and the Stormlands in exchange for lower shipping rates and it would open for more trading with them.”

Stannis took a long moment as if considering the proposal. Finally he seemed to have found a flaw in it: “Dorne doesn’t have the best relationship with Higharden, what makes you think they would accept such an association?”

“Mace Tyrell – you are right- would probably scoff the proposal before even looking at it. He is a proud fool. But if you brought the proposal to his son, Willas Tyrell, it would probably go much more smoothly. It is known that the heir to Tyrell Incorporated is on good terms with Oberyn Martell. In any case the only other proposal of the kind that Dorne could get would be from Lannisport, and the tension between the Lannisters and the Martells is much greater than any problems Sunspears may have with Highgarden. Doran Martell would trade ten times over with any of the Tyrells before he would think of speaking two words with Tywin Lannister.”

“How do you know all this?”

_Because I spent five months in Highgarden and another five in Plank Town, not even thirty minutes from Sunspear..._

She shrugged: “Rich people love when the world talks about them. It’s not like all the things I’ve said are cooperate secrets.”

At her response Stannis just continued to look at her with a face that she couldn’t interpret.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Stannis was dumbstruck.

And, not to mention, a little peeved that he hadn’t considered this solution for the project. Both Davos and him, even Renly and Loras and Cressen, had tried to come up with solutions to the problems they faced with the Westeros Interland Department for the project.

This would resolve any shipping policy problem and would probably add more revenue to the project. Not to mention it would also allow for Baratheon Industries to bring it as second project to work with Targaryen Industries. – Targaryens and Martells were known to work a lot together.

 

Stannis looked back at Miss Stone. He wasn’t fooled by her nonchalant answers. She was clearly hiding something. This was as clear as the fact that she was as smart as she was beautiful. Which begged the question: why was she in her chosen profession?

Then the idea of this mystery man and his possible role in her life popped into his mind. – _Has he forced her into this life_?

Surely if that was the case he could help her.

But first he needed to understand more... _know_ more.

But talking about her mystery man would definitely not help matters.

 

He scrubbed his palms over his face, knowing he would probably regret what he was about to say.

“You are young... intelligent... beautiful...knowledgeable... You could easily get another job... or go to school... banks are always ready to give out loans to students... if you truly needed money, you could borrow it from a friend or relative... Why are you working as a... why did you choose this unique profession?”

She seemed a little taken aback by the question. Her face blanched the smallest amount, making him want to grit his teeth in frustration. – _Clearly the choice has not been the easiest... or maybe it wasn’t even hers_...

“W-would you believe me if I said you were my first client?”

Stannis scoffed. “I had to ‘strong-arm’ you into a second date and purchase your number for quite a hefty price. Before that I downloaded your picture on my phone. I don’t think a novice would have achieved that feat.”

Her eyebrows rose: “Is there a compliment in there somewhere?”

Sighing, feeling a little embarrassed by his admission, he added: “Let’s just say you are a little too good at your job for me to believe I was your first.”

“Thanks?”

Then he remembering Davos telling him the ‘platinum level’ she had in Gulltown. Stannis frowned irritated once more ... not to mention feeling vulnerable what he had just confessed to her: “I might have been your first client in Kings Landing. But I hear you are quite the pro in Gulltown. Not to mention Chataya had you already booked with quite a lot of men when I reserved you for the week.”

“Reserved me! Is that what you are calling it now?... as for _all_ those other men, I had no idea until this very moment, about them nor would I have gone to see any of them!”

But Stannis ignored the response, his earlier frustrations coming back: “Tell me: how many men have known you? Your body? ...Fifty? ...A hundred? ...more?... there _had_ to have been an alternative.”

Alayne gave a look of mock-surprise: “Why, I never explored alternatives to being an escort!”

Then glaring at him, she demanded: “Where is this coming from? It’s not like I sprang this on you.... In any case you are such a hypocrite! You’re really going to give me shit about being an escort? I didn’t fuck myself yesterday and the day before... _darling_ , do I need to teach you the laws of supply and _demand_?...”

 

Stannis looked at her with murder in his eyes. He was annoyed that she actually talked back at him but also by the fact that she was correct: he was a hypocrite.

She persisted: “Do you deny it? ... As you just said you did not call on my _services_ once but _twice_. And let’s not even mention the whole locking me into your tower and ‘reserve me’... that would just embarrass you more!”

“No I don’t deny it... there is something about you... something that has derailed my whole existence. So yes – I need to resolve this thing... resolve the issue you brought with you, from the first moment you stepped into this penthouse...until I shake this _thing_ , I need you here....”

In mock surprise, she retorted: “Oh? ...so nothing to do with those test results?”

 

Stannis was fuming. He hated himself that all the things he had confessed to her. How much he had revealed about himself. More than that he hated how much she was able to affect him.

His chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths.

It had been a long week – a long day.

He was pissed off. His whole life felt like it had been turned inside out. On top of that, Stannis knew he couldn’t handle anything to do with her.

 

So, he lost it.

 

“Fuck the test results. Fuck it all.”

 

The words barely out of his mouth, he crashed his lips on hers, his body over hers.

 


	15. Chapter 14 - ... just a bit of tension

 

As Sansa felt his lips collide on to hers, it took her a few moments to process what had just happened.

 

He had questioned her.

He had looked irritated.

He had yelled.

And then his lips had crashed on hers, his body had covered hers, pressing it into the mattress beneath her.

 

The need to protest, to move him away from her lasted less than thirty seconds. Her arms went quickly from trying to push him away to bringing him closer. Her lips had gone from crying in complaint to moaning in approval.

Stannis’ body was as large and hard as she remembered, with the added heat he was emanating, pressing himself on her with ferocity. He smelled of work and the sea – the familiar scent she had now – after only two days – associated with him.

Relishing all of this, all of him, Sansa returned the kiss with equal ardour. She brought his face closer to hers, placing her hands at the back of his neck and waist, softly scratching both his scalp through his short hair and the material of his shirt. In response she felt his arms tightened around her with a naked strength that threatened to crack her ribs.

She didn’t care.

She loved it.

She relished it.

She needed it.

Needed him.

She clutched him back in equal desperation.

 

With a gruntal sound, he stiffened a second time, his lips becoming even more desperate, hungry. His mouth and his touch weren’t as considerate as they had previously been. His caresses were fumbling, almost clumsy. But, instead of being possibly put-off by this, Sansa’s body responded even more quickly. His greedy hands on her breasts, her hips, her thighs teased her into an aching arousal.

 

Finally she had to free her lips so she could gasp air.

He gave a growl of protestation, before Stannis pushed her backwards, further onto the bed, enough to give his lips access to a new prey.

They went for her chest. He hungrily mouthed his way down her breasts as his hands started to tear the fabric.

Hearing the ripping, Sansa didn’t care. Instead she let her head fall back and moaned helplessly.

Looking back up, she discovered – or remembered – her own hands were gripping at his head and back.

The tension felt beneath her fingertips was overwhelming, coiled. His body felt different somehow from what she’d felt before. It was more than arousal. More than lust. More than impatience.

On the verge of losing control, Sansa pushed him away from her now free nipples and then grabbed his head again to capture his mouth in another kiss. This time, they both moaned deep in their throats as they groped and frantically rubbed their bodies against each other.

One of Stannis’ hands moved between their frenzied movements and pushed between her thighs, cupping her groin through her pants.

She ground herself against him.

 

“Oh, fuck, Alayne.” He gritted in return.

Hearing her alias instead of ‘ _Sansa’_ sent a pang through her. However, before she could bring more thought to the concern, Stannis rasped a second time:

“Alayne.”

He stared straight into her eyes for a moment with such naked longing Sansa temporarily forgot to breathe. Then Stannis claimed her lips once more with a low groan.

Sansa whimpered as his kiss grew deeper and more ravenous.

Still hovering above her, Stannis adjusted them: heaved himself up as he parted her legs to give him space to settle in.

She clung to him, wrapping her legs around his wide hips, holding him as tightly as she could.

 

As they continued to kiss, Stannis returned to pulling off Sansa’s clothes.

Continuing in the intensity of the situation, he didn’t waste time with foreplay or delicacy.

He yanked her pants and panties in the same motion. He then fumbled with her bra until he managed to yank it off.

The previous times he had never been this uncontrolled. This lacking in skill and consideration. However, instead of alarming her, it only further fed her own desire, her own need for him.

Sansa clawed at his clothes like a hungry wolf, futilely trying to undress him as he worked on hers. When she was naked, Stannis helped her with his buttons – by ripping them, sending them flying -, belt and zipper. Together, they pushed off his shirt, trousers and boxers – tossing them sloppily onto the floor.

 

Sansa looked up at him. Her eyes raked his large naked form. From his slightly red, panting face, to his hard broad shoulders, to his pecks, to his trail of hair leading to the fully erect cock between his legs.

She was unable to stop herself from reaching out greedily and squeezing him with both hands. At the touch, Stannis grunted and jerked his hips.

While she caressed and clutched him, he slid one of his large hands between her thighs and penetrated two fingers within her. As they moved within her, Sansa could hear her body slurp, taking them in. She was so wet and aching, Sansa couldn’t help but moan with embarrassing abandon.

Something in Stannis’ eyes ignited, even as his body remained coiled with that same agonizing tension. He pushed her thighs even further apart and placing hips even more closely to her centre.

Sansa waited breathlessly as she saw him align his member to her entrance.

He’s actually started to penetrate her when she jerked back.

_FUCK! NO_!

“STOP!”

His eyes looked at her in horror and incomprehension.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

Stannis was about to burst.

He held himself perfectly still, taking agonized breaths.

He looked down at Alayne as she had just yelled in protest. –Was she truly this cruel that she would deny him now? Had this all just been for revenge for locking her in his penthouse?

 

Probably trying to explain her objection, she spoke once more with a voice of desperation: “Condom!”

As the word sprung from her lips, Stannis had a sudden urge to retort _fuck it_ – _fuck the condom_ , before a moment of sanity washed over him: _Fuck... condom_!

He couldn’t believe he had forgotten - that she had almost forgotten - for the second time!

Then another realisation ran threw him in dread: they were in her room. Alayne’s room. Alayne’s room that Davos had bugged.

Now a definite second reason to go to the master suite where the condoms were and where there were no recording devices... _hopefully... or Davos was a dead man._

His voice heavy and rough he replied: “My room.... we need to go. _Now_.”

 

How they managed to grab two robes from the bathroom and get to the master suite, Stannis wasn’t quite sure. Nor did he truly care to be honest.

 

Soon – but never soon enough in his mind – Alayne and him were in his bed, naked.

Stannis held himself with rigid control – control that had been lacking in her room.

He breathed heavily as she opened the condom and reached over to stoke his hard cock. He was unable to stop himself from sucking a breath in, his heart pounding even faster, as her delicate fingers brushed against his swollen distended flesh. Painfully slowly – clearly wanting to torture him more – Alayne carefully rolled the condom down over his length.

Soon – _finally_ – Stannis released another groan as he settled himself once more between her legs.

 

Then another thought broke through him. – One running dread down his spine: _She’s been imagining the other man as I’ve touched her... as I’m about to enter her_...

Where the thought came from, he did not know, but it detonated a ferocity within him – _No... it can’t be_...

And yet, it made sense... from her profession... how she had previously moved when with him... the whole time she could have been thinking of this other man.

Stannis lifted her up his body to position himself right at her entrance.

He had to have her... even with these disturbing thoughts... but he wouldn’t let that scenario be a reality.

“Say my name... ask me to take you.”

Her eyes opened, revealing deep blue eyes – darker than normal and very dazed. “Wh-What?”

“My name. _Say it_.” He gritted through his teeth as he continued to hold her as he stared into her.

“Stannis.”

She leaned forward to reconnect their lips and kissed him in desperate passion, devouring his mouth before kissing his jaw till she reached his ear.

She whispered with a growl: “Fuck me Stannis Baratheon... my beautiful businessman...”

 

This time, Stannis didn’t hesitate. He slid himself home with a long urgent thrust.

Alayne cried out, her head falling back, her body arching up, presenting her perky breasts.

Even through his momentary blurred vision Stannis could note the expression of agonising bliss on her face.

 

He runted, a sound that was entirely primitive.

 

It felt so good inside her. So deep and enclosed. She was so tight yet so welcoming, as if they had been moulded together.

She whimpered and wrapped her legs around his body as he started to move.

Alayne touched him with wildness and intencity. Her hands were all over his body, so hot he felt singed. She squeezed him with her arms, her legs and her pussy. He could feel the exquisite tension of her walls build up around him.

His face pressed against her neck, he inhaled her sent.

A part of him refused to believe she would react like this with any other man. That she could give even a fraction of this reaction to another man.

His own hands were busy moulding her breasts as he continued to listen to the sounds of her desire: of her moans and whimpers...

Her body shook ... trembled. She was incredibly responsive... incredibly aroused... _for me_! – His mind insisted once more.

 

Breathing heavily, Stannis felt Alayne scratch his back. As the fingers and nails imbedded into his skin, Stannis relished this primal, basic way their bodies were locked together, moved together.

As he pushed within her, his mouth sucked, nibbled, licked, marked her neck, her lips, her neck again, her breasts.

His hands caressing, grabbing, adoring her smooth porcelain skin.

 

At one point, Alayne pushed his body back before leaning her own face forward and bit his chest. - He growled in response, increasing the rhythm.

Pounding long fast strokes within her.

His thrusts became more and more intense as he felt her closer and closer to the edge.

Again and again he moved.

Nearer and nearer she was - coming towards a precipice.

And again.

And then finally: her body convulsed around him as Alayne cried out his name:

 

“ _STANNNIIIISSSS_....”

 

At his name on her lips, her coiling, spiralling around him, Stannis knew he couldn’t last much longer.

 

He moved in desperation, his movements no longer with any kind of rhythm.

He was on the verge.

The tension spiralled inside him.

 

... and then Stannis made a feral grimace as he shattered into a million pieces.

 


	16. Chapter 15 - ... just a few adjustments

 

 

Stannis woke up groggy and confused.

 

He usually roused at some point in the night being prone to insomnia. However this was not the case here. – This time it had been the movement of something next to him in the bed that had stirred him out of his slumber.

He first thought it might be Alayne trying to sneak out of his room... or _worse_ : out of the penthouse, whilst everyone was supposed to be asleep. The thought made him wake up even more hastily and look at the other person in the bed.

Relief ran through him when he realised she was not only still lying next to him but she was in fact still sleeping. However the relief soon turned to worry when he realised the movement that had woken him: Alayne was emitting small sounds, somewhere between mutterings and cries, as she shifted around under the covers.

 

_Nightmares_...

 

The first reaction was too softly wake her up and reassure her. Yet another thought soon followed; a more selfish one. Stannis feared that in waking Alayne she would remember what they had done the previous evening and, regretting it, would chastise both him and herself before she would reject him once more by running back to the spare room.

Instead he decided to gently pull her closer, embracing her slender form, and started softly caressing her long hair and shoulders, trying to sooth her into a more gentle slumber.

As he continued to hold her and listen to the murmurs he was unable to understand, Stannis wondered if these nightmares were a constant nocturnal nuisance for her. - The few nights she had stayed at the penthouse she had always ended up relocating to the outer deck.

After a few moments of reflection, Stannis slowly eased himself out of the bed, trying at the same time to keep Alayne as comfortable as possible – especially since the mumbles hadn’t stopped entirely. Once out, he put on pyjama bottoms before moving to the closet and took out one of his clean shirts as well as a blanket. Back at the edge of the bed, he begrudgingly – and with some difficulty - covered her naked body with the shirt before enveloping her in the bed blanket.

All set, Stannis then proceeded to take Alayne in his arms and carry her to her preferred setting.

 

He placed the both of them on one of the chaises-longues in a way that they could both fit, her body somewhat over his own, the blanket covering them both. Thankfully by the time they were both set, Alayne seemed to have calmed down before she started to mumble something, her face scrunching into a frown.

As he slowly stroked her hair and placed his other arm under her, she instinctively moved towards him in her sleep, covering his body more with her own: one arm and a bit more covering his naked torso and one of her legs placing itself more firmly between his own thighs. Her face aligned itself with his chest and, surprisingly, started to nuzzle the base of his neck. ... She even seemed to _inhale_ him? Before letting out a small purr...

He distinctly heard her murmur: “ _umm... sea..._ _stan_ - _nis_...” and then sunk more into him.

 

Stannis felt his lip twitching in satisfaction at the feeling, as he silently agreed with her. This was definitely a much better way to sleep – even if his back was a little uncomfortable against the hard wood.

Yes - he definitely wouldn’t mind the same scene back home... with maybe a few alterations: preferably with more privacy and a warmer climate so that they wouldn’t have to bother with any clothes or blankets...

Stannis fell back asleep a small smile on his lips, an image of Alayne in his arms on the deck back in Dragonstone.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

_Warmth_...

Warmth that Sansa wanted to bathe in... that she _was_ bathing in. She frowned as she thought that she probably shouldn’t stay too long under the rays of the sun because of her fair skin.

Keeping her eyes closed, still half asleep, Sansa continued to relax as she listened to the sound of seagulls, waves and the day busying around her.

Unfortunately, soon after moving further back into her semi-slumber, Sansa felt something nudging her.

_Nooo_...

She wanted to rest a little longer. Why couldn’t Bran go bother Rickon instead? And where was Arya? Gods why was it always her that had to be the responsible one? Couldn’t Arya look after them for just _one_ hour: an hour to herself, that’s all she wanted.

 

_‘Alayne?’_

She ignored it.

Mostly. - Just gave a small growl. She wasn’t even ‘ _Alayne_ ’. Why did Bran always have to make up those stories with ‘tree people’, ravens with three eyes, dragons... though he had never talked about an ‘Alayne’ before... must be a new character in his made-up story-

\- More nudging.

_‘Alayne..._ ’

Frustrated, Sansa mumbled: “Go away.”

The voice was a little clearer: _“You’re going to burn.”_

“Five more minutes... and stop calling me ‘Alayne’... and don’t you dare give me one of those tree people names instead...”

_“W-What should I call you instead?”_

“By my real name... like _normal_ people do. Anyway go pester someone else. Better yet, go see to Rickon: he’s too young to be by himself and his skin might burn as well, since we have the same...”

Suddenly, at the response, the warmth disappeared.

Sansa wanted to protest but maybe it meant that Bran had finally gone to check on their little brother. She could finally sleep some more.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Stannis quickly retreated and moved from the deck to the en-suite shower.

He needed to clear his mind - _fast_. He knew that if he stayed even a moment longer next to Alayne it would be detrimental. He would start demanding explanations: her name, her possible lover’s name, who in the Seven Hells ‘ _Rickon’_ was?....

 

When Stannis had woken up, he quietly took his breakfast before having the quite nice idea of softly waking Alayne up and then possibly having the two of them shower together... and possibly have her see him off as he went to the office.

He obviously couldn’t just come out onto the deck to wake her up and demand she joined him in the shower – _even if he really wanted to_ – so he had come up with some excuse for her to wake up and move back inside.

However it soon came apparent that, as he was trying to wake her, she thought she was somewhere else – _with her lover_?... The thought had made him grip the edge of the chair till his knuckles went white. And then, when she had said her name wasn’t ‘ _Alayne_ ’, Stannis had felt his heart beating faster, only to pound to a near heart attack when she mentioned a ‘ _Rickon_ ’.

 

Moving into the shower his thoughts went to this new development: who was ‘Rickon’? - From what ‘Alayne’ had mumbled it seemed clear to Stannis that Rickon was not Alayne’s possible lover.

Actually, from what she had said, and the way she had said it, it would make one think that Rickon was probably a child. Stannis grinded his teeth as he pushed the thought: he was probably her son. She had said _‘...his skin might burn as well, since we have the same..._ ’. - What else would that – could that - possibly mean other than him being her son... having similar features to her own but on a much younger face.

_Is that why she is so resentful to the possibility of having my child_?

His thoughts shifted somewhat as he thought of whom Alayne could have been speaking to... She had not necessarily been talking to ‘ _him’_ – this unknown man in her life – she could have been possibly been talking to a friend – _hopefully_.

However, the thought turned sour when he thought that she might have been talking to the father of ‘Rickon’. - Any woman as enchanting, ... and _enticing_ , as Alayne probably _did_ have some man – _probably a total_ _ass_ – in her life.

 

After shower, he went back outside to watch Alayne’s sleeping form some more to then cover it more thoroughly with the blanket.

When he had first woken up, Stannis had decided to go to the office to actually try and get some work done – he had been too distracted this week.

He had a passing thought, tempted into changing his mind, to work in the penthouse instead of going back to the office but Stannis knew it would have been a waste of a day... well, a _work_ day at least.

Looking down at the stunning sleeping form in front of him Stannis frowned the smallest amount. _She_ had been the too distracting thing in his life at the moment. Working here he was sure that his concentration would be even less than at the office.

 

Running his hand frustratingly through his hair and sighing, Stannis moved back inside in resignation to find Davos.

 

As he moved down the corridor, Stannis felt unease run through him. He couldn’t help but wonder on the extent of what Davos had listened to yesterday... or even how much he might have heard of when Alayne and him were... _together_. – _Gods please have the walls be thick enough..._

 

Davos seemed to be on similar thoughts to his own when Stannis found him in his quarters also getting ready for the day.

His voice a little gruff, Stannis greeted him: “Davos.”

He was unable to decipher his friend’s face as Davos greeted him in return: “Stannis. Good Morning.” -A _t least he’s not asking me if I slept well_...

Relieved that they could just jump straight into serious matters, Stannis spoke once more: “Once we are at the office, I would like us to revise the Highgarden contract... it could be a good idea to add Sunspear Corporation and even maybe Targaryen Industries to it.”

Davos nodded in agreement: “Already on it: Cressen and I already had a look into that possibility last night. A preliminary second version of the proposal had already been sent to your email for you to look over.”

After a pause, Stannis replied: “Great... will revise it, and hopefully we’ll be able to email all interested parties today so that SC and TI can be included in the meeting on Monday.”

“ Yes. For Tyrell Trades, best to contact Loras Tyrell as well as Willas... I believe that Willas Tyrell and Oberyn Martell are actually on good terms. Even if Mace Tyrell is a ‘ _proud fool_ ’-

\- Davos abruptly stopped and his cheeks slight tinged. – _Well,_ _he’s definitely listened to something_...

It took Davos another moment to recover, whilst Stannis tried to suppress himself from grinding his teeth: “... yea a-and best to contact both Oberyn and Doran Martell – Doran is the more sensible one.”

Trying to tame the scowl that had appeared Stannis only gave a straightforward reply: “Sounds sensible.”

Still looking a little flushed – _has Davos ever looked so uncomfortable?_ – his friend then added: “Speaking of ... Dorne and Highgarden... Sallador Saan and Meizo Mahr are still in Gulltown trying to get information about Miss Stone. Unfortunately they haven’t come up with anything so far. I instructed the others to start looking into any possible links she may have to Highgarden and Sunspear.”

Stannis gave another nod before thinking back to earlier events. “Also look into a possible ‘Rickon’ or ‘Rickon Stone’...”

Davos blinked a few times before giving a nod of understanding: “O-of course.”

There was another awkward pause, Davos shifting even more uncomfortably, looking away... coughing, before he finally added: “Hum ... cond-hum – I mean protection ha-has also now been added to all rooms... in the drawers.”

Uncomfortable and tongue-tied, Stannis felt his neck going red. Unable to answer he ended up only giving a curt nod before heading for the main living space for his suitcase and jacket.

 

As he reached his suitcase and files still lying on the coffee table, Stannis remembered something else from his conversation with Alayne. He looked through his files until he found something agreeable. He then proceeded to write down two items on a note.

When he headed to the entrance he was pleased to note Davos, who was waiting for him, looked to have recuperated to his normal facial expression.

Without properly looking at him, Stannis handled him the note: “Please find or have one of your men find these, and have them placed on the coffee table. – The sooner the better.”

Reading the note, Davos raised an eyebrow and looked at Stannis questioningly but thankfully did not comment.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

Sansa woke up slowly, feeling like she had slept a whole day. Opening her eyes, confused by the external noise, she soon realised that she was in fact outside of the pool deck with a blanket covering her.

Bringing herself to a sitting position she also became aware of the fact that she was wearing one of Stannis’ shirts. Frowning, Sansa tried to remember how she got here... or when she had put on one of Stannis’ shirts (and no underwear)?

_Did Stannis bring me outside_?... _and if so:_ _why_?

Still sleepy and confused, Sansa unsteadily got on her feet and wandered inside the penthouse. When meeting no one, she first decided it might be best to put a bra and a pair of panties on ... and might as well put some shorts at the same time. Feeling a little less exposed, Sansa then decided to order food since it was actually past lunch time.

After having ordered, Sansa moved back to the main living space and noticed new material on the coffee table. Getting closer she silently wondered if Stannis had left further reading-revision material. Sansa suppressed a smile when she saw at the top of the pile a copy of ‘ _Petyr and the direwolf’_ and one of ‘ _Jonquil and the three bears’_. Underneath there were two new business proposals that he had clearly left for her. Sansa suppressed a shy smile as she sat down: – _He actually liked some of my ideas and wants more of my input_?

She was still reading the first file when the door rang. However before she was able to reach for it, one of Mr Seaworth’s men that she had previously met (the day Sansa had started her incarceration) suddenly appeared out of nowhere - _where did they all stay?_ – and checked the contents of the tray and tipped Podrick before Sansa had a chance to.

 

She gave a reluctant smile to her co-conspirator which he sheepishly returned before closing the door and leaving her once more alone.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Once at BI Tower, Stannis had somewhat been productive.

Well the morning, at least, had been fruitful. Davos, Cressen and him went over the new scheme for the Highgarden-Kings Landing contract. Satisfied, they had sent it to all parties of interest: Renly, Willas and Loras Tyrell, Doran and Oberyn Martell, and Rhaegar and Arthur Dayne. (They had also put Robert in copy, even though Stannis knew that his older brother would probably not even notice... or at least he hoped that if he did Robert wouldn’t note the ‘ _Targaryen’_ addition to the proposal.)

 

Unfortunately after lunch, both Davos and Cressen had gone back to work on one of the other proposals leaving Stannis to his devices. – He shouldn’t be irritated by this. He _was_ usually left alone. Stannis preferred working alone, door closed, Massey making sure no-one disturbed him. (Although there weren’t many people to disturb him on a Saturday.)

However it was himself – and _her_ \- that were the distraction today. More specifically the conversation he had listened to yesterday... the _very pleasant_ evening they had had last night and then what she had mumbled this morning.

Alone in his office, Stannis had been able to restrain himself for an hour or so before succumbing to temptation and re-listening to yesterday’s recording... _three times_

Each time he played the tape more and more questions started swimming in his mind. Some were imperative to answer: _who was the mystery man_?

Whilst others were more trivial curiosities: _monk_? – was it to do with his hair? He kept his hair shorter than his brothers but he wasn’t bald or anything...

Stannis also re-played Alayne’s words from this morning several times in his head.

 

The boy _Rickon_ could be the said ‘man’ in her life. She was dedicating her life to her son, and didn’t think she had time for another relationship. - _gods I hope so_...

She had confirmed to her friend that she is was ‘ _involved with another man_ ’ however the way she had answered left some pause. Especially since she did not specify or go into the details of the kind of relationship she shared with said man.

Stannis could not over look the fact that she had paused quite a while when asked if she could fall for him! And she hadn’t said no! She just seemed worried to find out. Surely that should be a good thing for him, _right_?!

Building his argument further, Stannis wondered if maybe the boy’s father had died or had abandoned mother and child. This could be the real reason why Alayne did not want to attach herself to him; didn’t ‘ _want to find out’_ if she could fall for him.

Stannis knew how hard it could be to be a single parent raising a child. He also acknowledged that he was probably one of the luckier ones being able to afford the best for Shireen.

 

However, another thought made Stannis frown: there had been no calls to the phone, nor had she called anyone in return except for her friend Shae... Surely if she had a son, she would want to call him daily?

With irritation Stannis thought that maybe the boy had been put in the care of a friend or in a boarding school, like Shireen, whist his mother... _earned money_ to be able to afford him a comfortable life.

Maybe one of the two messages she had sent was in reference to him?

 

It was then that Stannis embarrassingly realised that _he_ had forgot to call Shireen last night.

As he started dialling Marya Seaworth’s phone, his thoughts wavered once more. Stannis decided that he wouldn’t mind taking care of Rickon, if he was indeed Alayne’s son. – He had always wanted a son and Shireen had asked him a few times when she was younger why she couldn’t have a little brother or sister? ( _As if they could just go to a store and pick one out together_...)

Then a voice in a back of his mind added: ... _and Alayne could also get another son from me_...

The sound of the phone ringing broke him from his trance and made Stannis wonder where the thought came from.

 

 

When he finally hung up on Shireen, Stannis realised how late it was to be in the office on a Saturday. - Plus he _did_ have a quite lovely guest to entertain back at the penthouse.

Stannis soon called Davos and informed him of their impending departure, before putting his files back in his suitcase.

 

By the time he walked outside of BI Tower, and felt the cool breeze of the late afternoon on his face, Stannis sighed in contentment. He had decided the best course of action was to ‘woo’ the lady into trusting him.

However thinking about it further, Stannis started to grind his teeth. - The problem was that he had no idea how to go about it.

 


	17. Chapter 16 - ... just a simple meal

 

Sansa was bored out of her mind.

 

Since waking up, she had eaten, looked through Stannis’ proposals, swam for over an hour, tanned, and even read ‘ _Petyr and the direwolf’_ and ‘ _Jonquil and the Three Bears’_. A few days of rest had done her wonders however she was used to always been doing something. Without her daily grind of running, scrubbing floors, going to class, revising, sprinting for buses across town she had way too much energy.

Plus, remembering all her rules and she would soon be leaving Kings Landing, she couldn’t allow herself to get soft. A start in a new city was always a little tough.

 

Sighing, putting down the last of the business proposal she had been re-reading, Sansa moved back inside and wondered around the penthouse. After a while she reached the open-plan kitchen. Scanning the worktops and then looking at the appliances presented, she wondered: _Maybe I could cook_?

It had been ages since Sansa had properly cooked anything. Mainly because she hadn’t been in a fully functioning kitchen in ages and it had never been in this modern. A sad pang interrupted the thought: _not since cooking with mom_...

She strolled further into the kitchen, checking pots, pans, and equipment. There were several convection ovens, warming drawers, two microwaves, and a steam oven – all brand-new and high tech.

Mind set on a new task, Sansa nodded in approval to her own thoughts: preparing a meal would relax her, set her mind straight. That was the _only_ reason she would do it. _Not_ because she wanted to show off for Stannis. Definitely _not_. He probably wouldn’t even return until late. – _His loss_.

She soon reached for the kitchen’s phone and called the hotel's main desk, listing all the ingredients and equipment she needed; everything from a rolling pin to meat thermometers.

 

An hour later, when Podrick led several attendants into the kitchen with bags and boxes, two of Mr Seaworth’s looked in mix of panic and annoyance as they also started looking through all the things she had ordered.

Sansa only shrugged and turned the surround sound to a radio station she liked, and tied on her brand new apron. - Her mind needed to be focused on more important matters than worry of how Mr businessman would react to her purchases: _bacon to fry, a full chicken to roast, sweet potatoes_ _to peel, lemons to cut_...

 

 

Sansa was singing ‘ _Sweet Sir Galahad_ ’ as she put the chicken in the oven when Stannis’ voice broke her absorption making her jump.

 

“What’s this?” – _He’s returned_!

She had almost dropped the dish but she couldn’t help but feel her heart do a small summersault of ... _joy_?

“Preparing dinner.”

Sansa replied as she closed the oven door, trying to sound casual. All the while, she refused to look at him. There was a small pause – Sansa wondering what his face looked like, as she felt his gaze travel the length of the room and her – before he asked:

“What’s on the menu?”

Bringing in her inner-Shae, she turned around, swinging her hip with a bit more effect than normal and placed her mitten hand on it, eyes looking at him challengingly:

“I’m sorry; did you think any of this was for you?”

“You’re preparing enough for an army.”

“I’m very hungry... I have been swimming all day, and then I tried to read a few pages of ‘ _Jonquil and the three bears’_ before it got too difficult. I need to keep up my energy if I want to finish. For the moment I’m on the edge of my seat wondering which chair Jonquil will choose. – And don’t you dare spoil it for me!”

Sansa noticed his lip twitch but instead of answering her, he moved to the small tarts on one of the work-tables, looking at them in curiosity.

“Lemon tarts.”

She replied the unanswered question.

His face turning into a small scowl, Sansa felt the need to defend her cooking:

“Don’t judge them until you’ve tasted them - they not too sweet like many produced in stores.”

Still looking sceptically at them, Stannis picked one up and took a bite. His lids went heavy as he chewed slowly. Before he could snag another one, Sansa hit his hand with a wooden spoon. The action seemed to have brought him back down from his food-high.

Blinking a few times, he gave a small nod:

“Dinner at seven-thirty. I’m looking forward to the meal.”

And then he turned, going back out of the kitchen area.

By the way he had said it, Sansa wondered if he was referencing to the meal she was preparing... or to a possible a later one. – _One of much sweeter things_...

She shivered in excitement at the idea.

Realising her thoughts, with a roll of her eyes, Sansa forced herself back to work.

 

Though she kept the music going and sang as she cooked, Sansa noticed that Stannis remained near the kitchen the rest of the afternoon. Sansa occasionally felt his eyes on her, even when talking on the phone or reading business proposals. – ... _The ones I did earlier_?

 

The few times she looked over the open plan kitchen to the living area to spy on him, she also noted that he looked far more relaxed than she had ever seen him (except maybe asleep). A time or two, she caught him doing nothing but staring at sailboats. His piercing gaze was at ease, his complicated mind lost to daydreams.

 

In contrast, she grew more and more nervous, as if she had a date later...

The thought made Sansa frown. All this was getting way to dangerous and domesticated. Now that she had feathered her gilded cage, the tower was a dream. Here she had swimming, business journals, a new wardrobe and an endless supply of decadent food and cooking supplies.

Oh, and great sex. - Except for the fact that he would soon return to where ever he came from, leaving her behind.

 

 

Just passed six-thirty, Sansa noticed Stannis headed to the master bedroom without a word.

She had just finished everything and was stowing dished in warming drawers. She had even packed boxes for _Grumpy-Man_ and his men. When she called the man for pickup, he eyed her offering warily.

Smirking a tiny bit, Sansa assured him: “This food is one hundred percent not drugged because I couldn’t find any.”

Mr Seaworth looked from the boxes full of wonderful smells back to her, clearly conflicted, before he finally grated awkwardly: “Thank you.”

 

 

All set, Sansa went to her own room to shower and change.

After her shower, she donned a strapless blue dress, along with the only jewellery she had: the earrings she had worn on her second night here (before being locked in her tower). She then applied some make up and lip gloss and twisted her hair in a loose knot.

Feeling silly for taking the trouble, Sansa frowned into the mirror.

This was just a meal between a businessman and his prisoner (one he considered to be a _lying escort_ ). Why had she taken the time with her appearance?

Her face scrunched even further as the thoughts continued: he had gotten a foothold on her mind, her thoughts. All she could see, feel was him...now she was cooking for him... making herself look good for him?

She was all but teed up for a crash landing.

 

 

Shaking herself, Sansa moved back out of the additional room and headed for the kitchen. She carted dishes to the table then opened the room’s doors and windows – allowing in the cool breeze and the sound of waves to enter.

 

When he joined her, Sansa couldn’t help but feel pleased that Stannis changed into slacks and a clean shirt, dressing up as well.

Soon they were both sitting in a semi-self-conscious silence, the food served.

Sansa waited for Stannis to taste, refusing to believe the butterflies in her stomach were worry in regards to his possible reaction to what she had prepared.

With his first bite of the roast, Stannis seemed to be stifling his reaction. However Sansa felt elated when she read the true reaction underneath his business mask and when he finally spoke:

“And on top of everything else, you can cook. Did you learn only from home or did you have schooling as well?”

“Only home.”

 

He ate everything on his plate, so she served him seconds. But when he pushed his plate for thirds, Sansa reminded him:

“There’s dessert.”

His eyes shined, and once more Sansa wondered if it was in reference to her tarts or if he was thinking of another desert entirely.

 

Tarts served and most devoured by Stannis, looking very satisfied, he sunk a little in his chair. He finally again spoke: “You could be a chef.”

“That would be exciting. But I think I would prefer your job as a mogul, dominating the world.”

Face still relaxed, he asked: “You think you could handle my job?”

“I think you would be surprised.”

He rose, crossing to the coffee table. “I doubt that. I know how smart you are.” He returned to his seat with the two proposals he had left for her earlier.

 

 

Continuing to look at them, as Stannis opened one, Sansa replied: “I must say I was surprised that you would want my opinion. You didn’t seem to keen yesterday when you saw me reading your files.”

“As long as I have you here, I might as well take advantage of your brain.” – _As long as you have me... but how long is that_?

He flipped through the pages he had clearly already looked at whilst she was cooking.

“Did you learn all this from econ books and journals?”

Her finance minor had actually been more help this time. “I learned a lot from books.”

Getting to a particular section, Stannis finally stopped, his eyebrows frowning together.

“Why did you recommend moving forward on the second proposal?” - It was a block of run-down apartment complexes. – “These aren’t class A, B, or even C. I’d deem them class D for ‘Disgraceful’.

Sansa held back a smirk. _I would call them S for ‘Shithole’_. – Her bus route to one of her cleaning house passed those apartments and they were similar to her own complex.

“The numbers are marginal at best”, he pressed forward. “Tell me your reasoning.”

“Gross mismanagement.” – _Emphasis on **ooh, gross**_. – “The managers are probably shaking down the tenants each month and under-reporting the rents collected. If you got even a semi-honest crew in there, you could lower rents, increase repairs and maintenance and you would still make more. With the added benefit of happy tenants.”

“ _Lower_ rents.” Stannis repeated as he looked at her as if he was studying _her_.

Sansa bit her lip, trying to look back at him as innocently as possible.

“It’s just an idea. The property is in foreclosure. Banks like to clear their books of bad debts by year’s end, so if you offered cash this week, you could steal it. There are tax implications as well but since you are not aversed to kidnapping you might not worry about taxes too much.”

His keen expression deepened.

_You’re talking too much, Sansa. Muzzle it._

To distract him, she asked how his day was.

 

They talked a little longer about their respective days before Stannis looked at her studiously... _and was that a little worried_?

“Would it be so bad to stay here in a state-of-the-arts penthouse, all money can buy in terms of luxury, a swimming pool, a deck with a view, a high-tech kitchen... and business files to look over... even business journals if you want?”

Between the lines she could read: “ _would it be so bad to stay here with me_?”

Her heart fluttering, Sansa looked away from his piercing eyes: “Until when would this lovely holiday be?”

“Until I go back home.”

“Which would be when? I have some things planned over the next week.”

Sansa noticed him starting to grit his teeth: “Like what? Tell me and I can be reasonable.” - _Disappearing_.

Instead she shrugged.

His eyes darkened. “You still won’t reveal a thing?”

Yet then he seemed to make an effort to keep things light. “What are you: a wanted fugitive?”

“Ha. That sounds exciting.” – _The reality is much less so_...

“Then what is it?”

“You realise the [Hour of the Wolf](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Hour_of_the_Wolf) Festivities are starting next week?” – wouldn’t he have somebody else to celebrate with? His brothers?

Comprehension lit his face. “You already have plans with another. Of course you would.” He sounded casual but Sansa noticed his expression tightened.

Sansa had no idea what her holiday would be like, only the first step: taking a bus to a new destination to where she knew no one and no one knew her.

Face still tight, Stannis straightened: “Is a regular client taking you skiing? Or maybe a partner is bringing you him to meet his family?” there was no mistaking his jealousy now.

“I don’t have either.”

“You intend to go from my bed to another’s?”

Pushing down her anger from his comments, Sansa replied: “That’s not it.”

“Then tell me.”

“I have a private life, Stannis. Even if I don’t book dates, or have boyfriends – [ _just a crazy ass husband_ ] – I still have things to do.” – _Like an exam and then running in the opposite direction to Ramsay... and you_.

“How much money would it take for you _not_ to?”

She glared. – _seriously_?

“This can’t be taken from me.”

Sansa was almost tempted to tell him about her exam but she held back. – _rule 5: ‘Don’t ever trust anyone. Especially a man.’_ If she broke that rule she could pay dearly. Not to mention the fact that if there was ever a place that linked things in her life, it was her night courses at the college.

 

Finally he asked a question that (seemed) to be on his mind for a while: “Whose meal did I enjoy?”

Sansa raised her eyebrows in confusion: “Pardon?”

“You would’ve cooked this for friends or family... or maybe a lover I took you from.”

“The kitchen inspired me.”

He gave a small frown, not convinced: “What’s so remarkable about it?”

“The appliances.” – _They work_. - “Why are you so convinced there’s someone else?”

“You respond to two things: luxury and pleasure. I give you both, yet you hold yourself back.”

Sansa frowned. “There’s got to be more than that.”

“Why wouldn’t you have a partner? If you didn’t choose a man from outside your work, then one of your clients would have snapped you up.”

“You sound so certain.”

“When you fuck your clients” – the muscle ticked in his jaw – “you... affect them. But you would have me believe that not one has kept you? .... I see you, hear you, smell you, feel you. You should be _haunted_ by men.”

Sansa almost gave a bitter laugh. – _If only I wasn’t_.

Ramsay had been on her mind more and more. She had had another dream about him last night. Sometimes, Sansa could have sworn she had an animal sense that he and his goons were closing in-

“-You’re doing it even now!” Stannis slammed down his fist on the table. “Your eyes go distant whenever you think of him! That drives me insane!”

“I am in no way thinking about a lover.”

The statement seemed to have calmed his outburst somewhat, yet he still gritted – similar to a petulant child: “Why should I believe that or anything you say?”

“I suppose you shouldn’t. You have no reason to believe me.” – _And if you don’t, our relationship will hopefully stay uncomplicated...and I can go on my merry way before_...-

\- Feeling a little uncomfortable remembering her previous thoughts, Sansa stood up and started clearing the table.

“And you clean as well?” His tone was half-cutting, as if he was trying to be rude but couldn’t quite commit.

“Oh, I’m a real _pro_ at cleaning.”

 

Sansa could feel Stannis stared at her, silent, for what felt like an hour as she cleared the table and washed the kitchen down. She was finishing rincing the sponges and putting away the mitts when he abruptly rose and left the room.

“You’re welcome for dinner”, Sansa muttered to herself in dejection... and furious with herself that she had let her guard down.

 

Knowing she had only herself to blame, Sansa shook her head as she made her way outside to the night lit balcony.

 

She gazed out.

Sailboats dotted the dark water. But she barely noticed them.

The air was cool – cold for these southern – but it just reminded her once more of Winerfell, of her brothers and sister, her parents... cooking with her mother, going to the hot-springs with Arya, Brna and Rickon...-

-Footsteps interrupted the memories.

Without a word or a touch, Stannis stood behind Sansa, so close she could perceive the heat emanating from his body.

They stayed like that for a long time. The temptation to sink back against him and tug his arms around her grew irresistible. –

-Then _movement_.

Blinking down to where the movement had been ended, Sansa noticed that he had draped a simple , but no less gorgeous, necklace with a pendant at the end of it. A dark stone had she didn’t recognised that glowed in the moonlight with a mix of greens, reds and blacks.

Then she felt his lips brushed across her nape with the most tender kiss, making her shudder.

However the warmth on her back suddenly disappeared as he then turned to go back inside.

 

Not thinking, simply going on reaction, Sansa reached back and caught his wrist.

 

 


	18. Chapter 17 - ... just a small token of appreciation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis giving Alayne a present. Sansa thanks him for the beautiful gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised: Mature warning definitely applies to this chapter.

 

Stannis wanted to put his fist in his mouth. Or maybe just punch himself. – Why couldn’t he just keep quiet? The whole meal had been like a car crash unfolding in slow motion in front of him, and him powerless to do anything to stop it. It made him question why he was so surprised by the ‘destruction’ left in its wake. It seemed that his bloody lack of control around her also affected his mouth.

Stannis followed Alayne’s each and every curve with his eyes as she swayed between the dining room and the kitchen, clearing the meal. He wondered if other men had been as captivated and cursed by this creature as he was?

The meal had been extraordinary. An epiphany of sorts. Stannis had never found much appeal in the ‘art’ of cooking; food had never been more than a basic requirement for living.

That is, until Alayne.

Repeatedly, throughout the week she had seemed adamant to make him aware of certain things long buried within in him, things that he had never known, or even understood the purpose in knowing.

With all these ‘ _enlightenments’_ , Stannis still wasn’t sure who had sent her to him and for what purpose. A siren from below brought to drown him? Or a seraph from above, bringing him up to the surface of the still mire he had been living in to breathe?

 

Unfortunately it had been ruined when Alayne reminded him of the following week’s celebrations.

He was leaving on Wednesday. Why should he care what she would be doing for the rest of the week?.... Or who she would be spending the winter festivities with?... Or what exactly they would be doing to keep warm at night?...

But of course when Stannis quickly found the first solution to his problem, it had clearly not been the right one judging from her reaction. What kind of an escort refused _more_ money? – Cleary _she_ was the crazy one here.

And of course that’s when his stupid male ego had reared its ugly head and Stannis had been unable to stop himself from imagining the meal had been prepared with another in mind. – More specifically the possible ass she might already be in a relationship with. And of course, with that had come the car-wreck.

 

 

With an internal sigh, he left the table for his bedroom. – _Best leave before doing any more damage_...

Once inside the master suite, his eyes fell directly on the object of his intent: a small black case. Reaching for it, his hands suddenly started shaking... _with nervousness_?

On the way back from the office, Stannis had noticed a jewellery shop and, inspired, had asked the driver to pull over. Once inside, the shop assistant who had greeted him had clearly sized him up and seen ‘ _dragon signs_ ’*. However he had had given little thought to the golden bracelets, diamond earrings or ruby rings she had presented to him. With his usual scowl, Stannis had made his own way through the store, with no interest in her ‘help’, to buy the most expensive things.

Unfortunately, once alone he had suddenly felt at a loss. He had never been in this situation before - Selysehad chosen her engagement ring herself and any other jewellery after that, not that there had been much. Selyse had always been similar to him in that sense: practical and sensible, not needing to stand out and flaunt herself and her possessions.

 

Picking up the necklace from its box, Stannis questioned once more if the purchase had been a good idea. He remembered that as he had moved towards the store, Davos had followed him with the most puzzled look. Grinding his teeth, Stannis then wondered if his friend’s concerned looks were getting more and more frequent or if Davos was just getting less discreet about them.

The necklace itself was nothing extraordinary. In a way it had been its simplicity that had drawn Stannis to it. When he had spotted the obsidian stone shining from the glass case, he had thought it was perfect – a small reminder of him for her to have.

Now he couldn’t help but wonder how many of her suitors had given her gifts. Was this necklace just one of many? was he just one of many?

Frustrated once more with his wayward thoughts, Stannis willed himself to rejoin Alayne. – She was with him at least for now, why think of anything that would hinder on enjoying their time together.

 

 

With every step he took, Stannis could feel his pulse rising. All he could hear was the deafening pounding of his heart as the blood rushed past his eardrums.

Then he was right behind her.

His hands shook even harder.

He could feel perspiration build on his brow. Stannis would probably be frowning at his own anxiety if he wasn’t so bloody tense. It actually took him several moments to bring himself to place the pendant on her chest. Tongue tide, not knowing what to say, Stannis decided it best to not speak.

– _Seven hell, I’m not some green-boy_!

Unable to resist, and to prove himself, Stannis then bent down and pressed his lips where the chain met her porcelain skin.

Once the act finished, thinking that the longer he stayed the more likely he would damage the situation somehow, Stannis proceeded to head back inside.

However it seemed his siren would not allow him the reprieve, Stannis had barely taken two steps when he felt Alayne’s slender fingers wrap around his wrist, stopping him.

The act was so strange ... so subtle that his gaze was drawn to it. Stannis looked down to the contrast between her smooth porcelain skin and his rough, much larger hand and forearm. The image was odd. It didn’t seem right that any part of him had a right to be held by something so delicate.

And yet, here she was holding on to him.

 

Looking from his face to the pendant now hanging from her neck, Alayne asked: “What is it?”

“It’s... an apology. For-“

Picking up the stone, Alayne corrected him: “- No. _What_ is it?”

“Obsidian – _dragonglass_. It actually comes from Dragonstone, where I live.” Stannis gruff voice answered as he silently wondered why he had added the end bit to the explanation.

Alayne didn’t comment. Instead, seemingly satisfied with the explanation, she looked down at the pendant once more, her fingers still caressing the stone.

“Wasn’t this what was used against the white walkers during the Age of Dragons?” With a small smile she added: “The stone that killed the monsters of the north.”

“It is; though if you are thinking of pawning it, you won’t get much for it.” – _Seven Hells... why do I always have to ruin everything by talking?!... blab out the first thing that pops into my head_....

Fortunately, Alayne didn’t seem all that perturbed by the slight. Instead she retorted: “I was just going to say: thank you, it’s beautiful... striking even. I’ve never seen any anything like it. No one’s ever given me a present before... well except for my family when I was a child, for Aegon’s Day** or for my namesday.”

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Sansa could feel Stannis’ pulse rising beneath her fingertips. He held his gaze on the pendant in her other hand, but did not comment further.

With the silence growing, she moved forward to stand in front of him. Her movements were measured and subtle, as if _he_ was the innocent doe and she was the ravenous wolf that did not want to scare its prey into running away.

Her own heart was drumming.

Her senses heightened.

Goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cool breeze rose on her skin.

As she stood in front of him, Stannis’ gaze broke from the necklace to meet her eyes. Not letting go of his wrist, her other hand let the pendant drop back to her chest to slowly cup his cheek, smoothing the clenched jaw beneath.

She then proceeded to rise on her tiptoes, keeping her eyes locked into his. For a brief moment, his deep blue eyes flickered from her mouth back to her eyes.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Alayne slowly moved upwards, rising until her eyes were level with is.

 

Stannis didn’t want to move in fear of breaking the spell.

He had been unable to stop himself from looking for the smallest of moments down to her lips, as she had licked them.

Possibly continuing from the action, or maybe in reaction to him looking at her mouth, Alayne pressed her soft lips against his.

Kiss was so gentle, her lips caressing his own. Yet in the delicate act, Stannis felt the release of all the pent up tension from the day.

 

 

Soon after the kiss broke, Alayne led them back to his room, him standing between her and the bed.

 

However, as her small hands moved to her dress, he reached up and stopped her.

His voice rough, he asked: “May I?”

 

Her eyelids batting a few times rapidly, she gave him a small nod.

He noticed her swallow as he began to unfasten the buttons of her dress, spreading the lapels just shy of her breasts.

Alayne closed her eyes and tilted her head back as if presenting herself to him. Not one to refuse such an invitation, Stannis took a few moments to just gaze at the rising and falling of her chest as it glowed in the moonlight. He silently thanked that she had forgone a bra with the dress she had worn.

All he could hear were their combined breaths.

All he could smell was the increase in arousal of the room.

All this brought his senses to a primal level: this was about _instinct_ not reason.

 

After a soft exhale he took the opened top edges of the dress and lightly scraped them on her already hardened nipples.

His mouth watered at the idea of sucking them. ... _soon_

All his movements were slow and deliberate with only one objective in mind: _seduction_. More specifically, he was going to torment her as much as she had tortured him all week. So instead of relieving the ache he was sure was building within her, he straighten the tips of her breasts further with another scrape.

He was rewarded with a moan.

 _Scrape_.

“Stannis....”

“What?”

 _Scrape_.

“Y-you need to stop doing that.”

 _Scrape_.

He leaned down to murmur in her ear. “Do you not like it?”

 _Scrape_.

She chocked back another moan but did not answer the question. Instead she begged: “ _Please_....”

Feeling charitable, Stannis relented and let the dress fall from between his fingers and to the floor.

He finally touched her.

He placed his large hands on her beautiful breasts, relieving some of their tension. At the touch of his rough palms on her porcelain skin, Alayne exhaled sharply, before purring in satisfaction, eyes still closed, head still slightly tilted.

Soon, however, he returned to his previous torture by thumbing her nipples till they strained once more. His face still close to her ear, Stannis watched her chest rise and fall faster, her pulse in her neck becoming more erratic.

 

 _Gods I could watch this all night_...

 

He continued taunting her nipples until a stronger groan left her lips.

It was only then that he slowly lowered his lips to the skin below her ear and sucked softly.

With each wet kiss, his mouth travelled lower down her neck and chest until he reached his intended destination.

His right hand released the breast to fall to the skin below it. He started softy caressing her ribs whilst his mouth soon covered the bared nipple. His tongue leisurely lapped both skin and peak before blowing softly on the wetted area.

The action was soon repeated with her other breast, with now both of his hands gripping her waist, his thumbs messaging the skin below them, as Alayne seemed to be slowly grinding into him.

 

As he released the second nipple, she finally seemed to awaken from her trance, and looked at him with smouldering eyes.

She moaned: “You have too many clothes on... why am I the only one that’s naked?”

Instead of pointing out that she still had her panties on, he replied in a low, rough voice: “By all means...”

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Sansa was panting.

 

Lips slightly parted, her breaths came out shallow, with no true rhythm.

Her whole body felt like it had been strung on a wire. Her nipples were still as hard as before Stannis had decided to taste them, her thighs were clenched in anticipation for what was still to come.

She needed air... needed a _distraction_.

 

Levelling her head, Sansa slowly opened her eyes and was met with Stannis’ hard chest. She looked at the present that was yet to be opened.

 

 _Yes ... this is the perfect distraction_...

 

Looking up at his face, Sansa complained: “You have too many clothes on... why am I the only one that’s naked?”

She noticed his lip twitch in response: “By all means...”

Her eyes had already returned to his broad shoulders as she murmured a soft: “thank you” – _one should never forget their manners_...

 

She then proceeded to place both her hands on his shoulders, feeling the muscles beneath the shirt. She drew her hands closer to his neck, to the opening of the shirt. After a moment’s hesitation, her nimble fingers started popping each button as quickly as possible. Once the shirt unfastened, she opened it to reveal his torso beneath.

Sansa studied him even more thoroughly than she had previously done on their prior evenings.

His broad chest had only a bit of hair near his pecks. His stomach was flat, and while he didn’t have a six pack, he was definitely lean and muscular. At his navel, a small trail of dark hair started, leading down to areas still covered by his slacks. Sansa only briefly looked further down, to the spy the shadowy bulge in his pants, before bringing her gaze back up. – _Not yet_...

Her eyes, trailed by her fingers, caressed his skin starting from the navel, where the last of the buttons had been, to travel back up his stomach and torso till they reached his collarbone. Following the arch of the bones below, her fingertips touched him lightly until she reached the shirt that was hanging at the edge of his shoulders.

Sansa quickly looked back up at Stannis. His gaze smouldering, his dark blues eyes pierced into hers. It was clear that he was clearly affected by what she was doing by his loud breathing and his broad chest heaving motions, but he did not speak.

Taking it as a silent permission to continue, Sansa pushed the material off his shoulders and down his arms. Due to his body being taller and larger than her own, this proved somewhat difficult. Thankfully Stannis helped.

 

Once his arms were released from the sleeves of the shirt, they came to surround her. Possibly wanting to become an even more active participant in her examination, Stannis leaned in and sucked her lower lip into his mouth, nibbling it.

Encourage by the change in direction, Sansa knotted her fingers into his hair and gave a sharp tug, drawing grunted noises from Stannis’ throat. He opened his mouth more, making her shudder as his tongue started exploring her own mouth with slow sensual strokes.

Pressing their naked chest flush against each other, he slanted his mouth further over hers.

His skin felt like it burned with fever, his heart thundering. When one of her nipples glided across one of his, Stannis groaned into her mouth, deepening the embrace. He kissed with sensual flicks of his tongue stroking hers, before tasting her lower lip once more.

After a moment, Sansa dropped her hand from his head and softy pushed him back, breaking the kiss.

“What th-“

Before he could question her movements further, Sansa placed her index finger on his swollen lips, and chastised him:

“You are distracting me from my task. You still have too many clothes on.”

After a curt nod – and a small, very male, growl – Stannis let her continued. However, instead of dealing with the obvious: his trousers and belt, Sansa dropped to the floor. She proceeded to his shoes, undoing the laces then removing both shoes and socks.

Once the step complete, Sansa straightened herself on her knees and let her hands pass over once more the impressive budge straining against his slacks. Her fingernails lightly scraped down his chest until she she gave him a small shove. With the push, he fell back sitting on the bed.

Feeling less intimidated now that their heights were not too different; Sansa slowly removed his belt. She then slowly unzipped his slacks and brought them down past his knees, before dragging the heavy length of his cock out of his boxer-briefs.

The crown was damp with arousal.

Before he had a chance to sink himself further back into the bed, though, she stopped him. He sat straight, right in front of the bed, his erection proudly jutting out towards her.

 

When she had been younger, only starting to explore her sexuality with Ramsay, Sansa had never seen the appeal of ‘ _tasting_ ’ or going further and taking a man’s member into her mouth. It had always seemed degrading.

However, looking at the cock presented in front of her now, Sansa was intrigued more than anything else. She let her eyes wonder from his navel down the small trail of dark hair to the nest of curls surrounding his shaft. The cock itself looked impressive, long and with a large girth. – _Definitely felt large when it was inside me_...

Feeling a little daunted by her closeness to his member, Sansa quickly glanced at Stannis’ face: a hungry look in his eyes mixed with wonder.

Encouraged by this, Sansa sucked in a small breath and then let a finger trail the length of the angry vein up till the crown.

He moaned as the first touch of her fingers on him.

Despite his hardness, the skin was soft, with the head feeling like velvet.

Studying it further, she tried to remember what Shae had recommended for the next step of the ... _procedure._

However she soon got distracted by his veined length bobbing. She watched it pulse harder under her scrutiny and soft touch. A bead of moisture clung to the head, glistening in the moonlight.

Unable to stop herself, the bead taunting her, Sansa eased forward and swiped her tongue along the tip, tasting his arousal. The tang of a hint salty, mixed with masculine sweat, and a primal essence. It was definitely not the best thing she had ever tasted but neither was it disgusting like some women had described it...

“Fuck!” Stannis cried in response, nearly bucking off the bed when tongue made contact with crown.

Sansa glanced up and saw his head thrown back. She could note his face looking like it was in pain, his eyes closed. The muscles in his chest rippled with strain. His arm muscles twitched, as his arms grabbed the bed sheet either side of him till his knuckles went white.

Sansa smiled and mentally congratulated herself.

His reaction giving her confidence, Sansa licked him a second time. A second guttural sound broke from his chest as Stannis properly fell back onto the bed beneath him.

Smiling to herself, Sansa asked him: “More?”

From the bed, his voice came out hoarse: “Oh, by the Gods, _yes_.”

Remembering his earlier torture... - and the fact that he hadn’t begged yet - Sansa just gave another tentative lick before moving her lips back once more.

 _Groan_.

“More?”

“Oh, please, Alayne, just _please_... just...”

Instantly, she licked him from tip to base and back, then took him into her mouth. She moved down his cock, her movement slow, careful, trying to take him as deep as she could.

She felt him shudder.

Going back up, she released his cock before slowly and seductively moving her tongue, lapping tenderly at the very tip of his shaft, then sliding down his length. All this before, once more, her lips closed around his erection.

As she continued with the gentle sucking of his shaft, he began to rock his hips in a sensuous rhythm, slipping his shaft deeper between her lips.

All the while she could hear loud breathing, as well as erratic mumbles coming from Stannis... even a small ‘ _fucks_ ’ could be heard every now and then.

Feeling a little more confident, she placed her hands on his upper thighs, and slowly grazed her nails upward towards her lips and more specifically towards his swollen member. Soon, one of her hands joined her mouth, whilst the other started fondling his sack below. All the while, Sansa continued to suck him into her mouth, tracing the veins with her tongue.

After a moment, she decided to increase her suction. She pushed his entire shaft into her mouth as deep as she could take him.

Soon after, she tasted another shot of pre-cum. With the increase in the pace, Sansa could also feel his balls tighten between her fingers.

 

Not wanting for him to come so soon, Sansa remembered another trick Shae had told her.

Slowly, she let go of both shaft and balls. A small cry of protestation was heard from Stannis, but that not deter her from her mission; Sansa quickly went to the bathroom to get a glass of water.

 

Once back in the room, she noticed with a smirk that Stannis had not moved an inch.

He was still lying done of the bed as if in pain; his head was thrown back, hands still gripping the bedding, his legs open falling off the side of the bed, as his erection stood proudly on offer.

Kneeling back down, Sansa took a gulp of water, before keeping sip in her mouth. Her mouth closed, she slipped his length between her lips once more, the cool water meeting the hot hard cock.

At the new sensation, she felt the cock pulse and heard another ‘ _fuck_ ’.

Sansa continued a few strokes, going deeper and deeper down his length before swallowing the water. The action and suction pulled his shaft even more fully into her.

Another ‘ _fuck’_ and groan reverberated down till the end of his shaft in response.

Feeling even more powerful, Sansa then decided to repeat the process but this time with his sack. Once more, mouth half full of water, she gripped his member in her hand and lifted it over her mouth, whilst taking his right ball between her lips and sucking.

Her tongue swirled between ball and water, before adding the second ball.

She only stopped and swallowed the water after hearing another ‘ _fuck’_.

Satisfied by this little ‘interlude’, Sansa went back to the main event, and took his cock once more in her mouth. However, as she knew his release was soon, she took him deeper and faster in her throat.

As the suction became harder, she forced him against her throat.

His sack suddenly tightened once more before he suddenly came, shooting deep into her mouth, yelling a random jumble of words.

Her mouth filling up, she swallowed and kept sucking as he was softened, until there was nothing left to ‘clean’.

Satisfied with her skills, Sansa released him from her lips, and moved back from Stannis.

 

A small smile spread on her lips as she heard a final ‘ _fuck_ ’.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * - ‘dragon signs’: ’dollar signs’ in the Westeros of my story
> 
> ** - Aegon’s Day: somewhat equivalent to Christmas for the Westeros of my story


	19. Chapter 18 - ... just another Sunday morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mainly just smut/ fluff... but needed this kind of transition chapter before the next ones... (where ‘real things’ will happen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised: Mature warning definitely applies to this chapter.

 

By all the Seven he was doomed.

 

He was now sure of it.

She had been sent from the Seven Hells to test his resolve.

There was no other explanation. No God was so generous to have brought him such a gift. So the only other possibility was from below; to try and take everything from him. And by all the different Gods he had been all willing, if only his mouth would have worked enough to actually say the words to confess everything to his own sprite...

 

When Alayne had started the very pleasant but very slow removal of his clothes, Stannis had wanted things to progress quickly to the bed and a more horizontal positioning. However once she had taken off his shoes then things had shifted _significantly_.

When she had pushed him to a seating position on the bed, Stannis had been a little embarrassed that it took him so long to realise her intentions; her objective.

But how could he have guessed? Selyse had never done... _that_ to him. Nor had he ever requested it from her. The act had always seemed redundant. It wasn’t like it actually helped in the conceiving of a child, so it just seemed an unnecessary thing to add to everything else that needed to be done. The act even seemed in opposition to the creation of a child – _especially if one is to finish in the mouth_...

But Alayne definitely hadn’t had the idea of making a child at that moment... to be honest he had had no idea what exactly _was_ running through her mind, but nor was he foolish enough to question it.

The last true thought – and words - that had gone through _his_ mind was:

“Oh, please Alayne, just please ...” ... _put my cock in your mouth and don’t ever stop_.

From then, he had regressed to being a broken record, only being able to say one word, whilst his mind was going hay-wire. And there had been so many utterances of that one word. It was as if his brain was making up for the many years he hadn’t used the word. But each time it had sprang from his lips, the meaning had varied: promising her more jewellery, his family’s thoroughbreds, his boat, his shares in BI, his house... each time the trade demanding higher stakes... the last ones the highest:

‘Fuck’ - _I’ll tell you everything, whatever you need... just stop touching my thighs so slowly, put your hands where they should be._

‘Fuck’ - _I once put sheep-shit in my older brother’s mattress and closed it again. The room stank for a week before he realised, Renly was blamed... just go **faster.**_

‘Fuck’ – _have all my money... just put your gorgeous lips back around my cock_.

‘Fuck’ – _I would kill my own brother... for you to put your mouth and that cool liquid around me once more_.

‘Fuck’ – _I would burn my whole family... just stop torturing me!_

‘Fuck’ – _I surrender, have my soul..._

 

The whole experience made him think of an action film Robert had insisted they watch, where the hero was in a nuclear power plant that had been brought to full capacity, the pressure dial was in the ‘ _red zone’_ , warning lights were going off everywhere as a voice kept of repeating: ‘ _danger , danger, evacuate... make your way to the closest emergency exit_ ’....

However Stannis hadn’t done anything to find safety or try and stop the inevitable: the big explosion... the destruction... human casualties...

 

So now here he was:

Body drained...

Boneless...

Mind blank...

Not sure who he was or where he was...

All he knew was that this death had been worth it.

 

His brain still humming, he was barely aware of something tugging at the level of his thighs and then his legs being free of any kind of restraint, able to feel the cool breeze blowing on them.

Soon after, as he was slowly regaining his senses, he felt a soft kiss being place on what was now definitely the favourite part of his anatomy, before more kisses were being peppered up his stomach and chest. They became longer and more pronounced by the time they reached his neck and then jaw. Finally, soft lips captured his own, as he felt a cool stone set on his chest before a soft and warm body press itself over his own.

During all this, he was only able to let out soft groans, now that all languages and words had left his mind.

 

His thoughts were brought back to the present when a gentle voice called out his name.

“Stannis?... Stannis?...”

Another grunt was all he could manage before he slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the siren hovering above him. – Her smile grew in response, as she lightly traced her fingers on his forehead, moving back a few strands of hair, soothing him in the process.

Her sweet voice spoke once more, clearer: “I thought I had lost you there.”

 

He opened his mouth.

Unfortunately, only a small croak and then another ‘ _fuck’_ came out. – _Great... have I ever been so inarticulate_?

She smirked: “You don’t mince your words.”

His voice rough, he was finally able to let out more words than ‘ _fuck’_ : “I think I might be dead... “

She looked at him a few seconds, studying him, before, abruptly, her face disappeared from his sight and Stannis felt her warm body move away, no longer covering his own. However, before he could protest, he soon felt her hair drape over his chest, as she pressed the side of her face and her hand against his middle.

Voice a little muffled, she stated: “Nope, your heart is still beating... maybe going a bit fast, though. I think you might have high cholesterol with your old age.”

At long last fully aware of his surroundings, Stannis could help but give a dry scoff in response.

“I think you’ll find that it was _you_ who tried to kill me.”

He felt her body shift once more and soon her beautiful blue eyes were once more looking down into his.

“I’m sorry I forgot how delicate your disposition was, is there anything I can do to be more accommodating?”

At the question - and all the possibilities that his mind conjured in response - Stannis felt his lower body stir. Probably in response to the shudder, Alayne’s face turned to the side to study the rest of him. Looking back at him, a small smile appeared on her face: “Well seems like you were wrong... or at least partially wrong: there are certain parts of you that are very much still alive.”

 _Another stirring_.

“Is that so?”

Eyes shining, she smirked in return: “Well... maybe it’s just me being hopeful...”

 _His lower half twitched once more_.

Looking straight into her eyes, Stannis murmured: “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

And before she had time to react, Stannis flipped them over, his body now covering hers, and with an agility he definitely did not have five minutes ago, he retrieved a condom and was soon proving to the both of them how alive he definitely still was.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

It wasn’t hard to identify the searing brand pressed against her bottom for what it was. Sansa sighed and sleepily wiggled her backside. In response, she was rewarded by a hard, manly – and rather pleasurable – nudge.

“Mmm.”

Warm breaths tickled erotically at the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

Sansa stretched, arching her body away languorously and into the calloused palm curled around her bare breast. Snuggling back in again, she covered the hand with her own and pressed it tightly against her.

A low grumble vibrated through the hard chest pressed against her back, accompanied by a groggy murmur of desire. Soon lips started nuzzling her neck, a rough jaw softly scratching against her tender flesh. The fingers covering her breast tightened, and then kneaded. Another hand clasped her hip, pulling her back flush against the now definitely pronounced erection straining against her.

“Mmm, that’s nice”, she purred as the ministrations slowly continued. Her own fingers reached behind her to run up the arm that held her.

The hand withdrew but a moment later it was back, travelling against her bared thigh. It moved up until the rough palm cupped one of her cheeks and a significant length of male erection nudged against her, sliding with delicious friction against her bottom. She could feel the heat between her thighs growing as the first hand now skimmed over her hip and belly whilst the lower appendage continued its repetitive movement.

Coming fully awake, realising that all this was actually really happening, Sansa gasped: “Oh!”

With the sudden panic, more conscious of her surroundings, she clasped her thighs around the hand between them.

The body behind hers stilled, and then stiffened.

 

After a long pause, a large hand started softly caressing her neck, moving her hair out of the way. The hand then softly pressed her chest down, forcing Sansa to lie on her back. No longer on her side, face looking upwards, her eyes met Stannis’. His hand continued to caress her nape and forehead, clearing her face from her long hair, as his eyes studied her through the morning light.

At a loss at what to do, and intimidated by the scrutiny, Sansa murmured shyly: “Good morning.”

Stannis’ lip twitched in return: “It _is_ a fine morning... the view for one is breath-taking. I feel I might still be dreaming, even if I have never had such an inspired dream before... but then again, I’ve never slept so well before either.”

With a small frown, Sansa shifted awkwardly, from the praise, but more from the realisation that the second comment was true for herself as well. She hadn’t had a nightmare last night; no thoughts of Ramsay. - The recognition unsettled her more than any memory of Ramsay ever could.

Probably sensing her tension, Stannis’ own brows came together in worry: “Alayne, what’s wrong?”

Her eyes met his once more.

Trying to shake her thoughts, or the fact that she was so comfortable in Stannis’ arms, Sansa quickly shifted, rolling them in a way to bring herself hovering over him, Stannis’ body trapped between her two thighs.

 _Control... that’s what I need_...

Straightening herself over him, she once more brought out her inner-Shae: “I was just wondering how I could improve on the view...”

His hands moving to her hips, she saw Stannis’ eyes darken as he admired her.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . .

 

The sun was still rising, shining through the window on to the marvellous sight in front of him. He looked up in wonder as she started grinding against him. Her porcelain skin glowing, her gorgeous breast heaving ... the pendant and her dark red hair were the only colours.

Stannis was certain he had never seen anything as erotic.

Part of Stannis had recognised her actions for what they were: a distraction; distracting him from having to answer his questions. Yet, as if in a trance, Stannis let his hands wander from her hips over her to her belly, breasts and even the necklace.

As he continued to admire her naked body, Alayne grabbed his very awake cock. She quickly put on protection before moving it to her entrance. Even with the infernal condom, Stannis could feel the slickness of her arousal, the heat inside her that slowly enveloped him, searing him.

“Fuck...”

As she started to move torturously slow above him, her eyes lidded, she half-smirked, half-moaned: “Your vocabulary ... doesn’t seem ... to have developed much ... since yesterday...”

Wanting to respond - and for the movements to go a little faster- Stannis moved his hands over her breasts, kneading them, pinching her nipples.

“Ughh...W-would you... rather... I say a....ah... poem?”

“I don’t-t ca-are... for poetry...Your mouth... would be ... be-better suited ... doing something elseee....”

Agreeing with her, Stannis lifted himself from the bed, and brought his chest nearly flush against hers. He pressed his lips where her shoulder met her neck. He licked her sweat, rasping against her skin: “ _Mine..._ ” before giving her a small bite.

She moaned in response, grinding further into him.

Unable to hold himself back, Stannis moved his hands from her breasts and gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her butt-cheeks. He then pulled her downward as he bucked upward into her body. Hot and slick. The sharp slap of flesh meeting echoed around them joining the sound of their moans.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . .

 

 _Gods_...

 

As Sansa moved above Stannis she felt some of her resolve slip.

Growling into her, he went more rigid inside her, stretching her until she was unbearably tight around him. Unable to keep still, the friction so delicious, she bucked and writhed over him, undulating.

Her movements becoming erratic, him responding with equal thrusts, both groaning, Sansa was not surprised when, with a growl, he started jerking upward, into her harder. His grip tightened around her as she rocked back and forth meeting his fast movements.

Then there was a long raged groan...

Yet she continued till she felt the intense shudder run through her.

 

After a few moments, catching her breath, Sansa realised that they were both now lying on the bed. Well Stannis was lying on the bed, and she was lying above him.

They were both still panting, still in the ‘aftermath’ of what they had just done. Indeed, they were still tightly joined... And, he was still hard within her, even though Sansa knew he had found his release as well.

 

Yet none of this was the main reason her heart was beating faster than it should be.

It was the feelings of total abandonment and wellbeing she had felt in those moments in his arms. Even stronger than when they had first woken up.

She remembered when he had bit her... in the same paced he had already marked her once. When he had done it, she _had_ felt _his_.

Now she was wondering: _...for how long?..._

Hating her thoughts, she quickly disentangled herself from his arms, levering herself off his still hard member.

He hissed in a breath, in response. “That was ... abrupt.”

Without looking at him, Sansa stepped from the bed, and made her way to the shower.

 

However, her captor seemed to be intent on denying her any kind of escape: he joined her under the cascade, dragging her close. He peered down at her face, but Sansa gazed away.

“I know you enjoyed it. I know I did. What makes you uneasy?”

Closing her eyes, and letting the water cover her face, Sansa sighed: “Nothing...”

Stannis leaned down and pressed his lips against hers tenderly; kissing her ... and kissing her... until Sansa felt the tension drain, becoming docile in his arms.

She moaned, her head falling backwards.

 _He really needs to stop_...

However, as his kisses trailed to her nipples, her thoughts jumbled once more.

Soon Sansa was trembling in his arms, as he lifted her.

In a husk voice, he commanded: “Wrap your legs around me.”

With a forearm under her ass, pressing her against the wall, Sansa noticed the condom he had brought with him.

“You are _insatiable_...”

“Would you have me any other way?”

 

As he thrust within her once more, Sansa couldn’t help but think: _No_....

 

 


	20. Chapter 19 - ... just a few last minute changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday morning, after the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a few difficulties with this chapter, but hopefully you like :)

 

 

When Sansa arrived in the dining area in the fluffy hotel bathrobe, she couldn’t help but feel her stomach flutter: the table was covered with food. It looked like Stannis had ordered _everything_ on the breakfast menu.

 

The man himself, clearly noticing her face, gave an explanation to the spread: “I wanted to discover which are your favourites.”

Feeling a little flush at the attention, Sansa suppressed the smile and, instead, replied: “You shouldn’t be so wasteful.” – _Or try and pry any kind of information about me_...

Stannis shrugged: “Normally I would agree with you, especially since I hate waste, but in this case: whatever we don’t finish can given to Davos and his men.”

Frowning a tiny bit, he then added: “On the other hand, I don’t think they deserve it: they ate the rest of the lemon tarts from last night.”

This time, Sansa couldn’t help but chuckle: “Don’t sulk. If your nice, you might get some more.”

Sansa noticed Stannis’ face brighten at the idea, before he replied, grabbing something from his pocket: “About yesterday, there was actually something I wanted to give you... well ‘ _give_ ’ might not be the right word... but I-“

“-Stannis you don’t have you give me anything, the necklace alone was amazing. I can’t thank you enough for it.”

Running his other hand through his hair, Sansa saw Stannis’ neck go a little red as he replied: “Yes, I know how... _appreciative_ you were of the pendant.... but this is different...”

The comment making her blush as well, it took Sansa a while to realise that Stannis was holding out his hand to her with her phone being presented to her.

Shifting awkwardly, Stannis continued talking: “... I wanted to give this back to you. I should never have taken it from you or ... Hum, anyway: here.”

Trying to ignore the butterflies now definitely fluttering in her stomach, Sansa quickly took the object from him and turned back her attention to the table of food, only giving a small: “Thank you.”

 

“I... hum, I hope you have ... you are considering staying here... with me, during the rest of my stay?”

At the question, Sansa looked back at Stannis.

He looked so vulnerable, waiting for her reply. It was as if this was the first time he wasn’t actually sure of the answer to a question... She wanted to say ‘ _yes’_... to reassure him, but, unfortunately, she knew she had to hold back. Clearing her throat, she answered: “H-how about we take this a day at a time... can we see how we do with today?”

Stannis gave a reluctant nod: “Seems fair enough.”

 

Sighing, relieved by his answer, Sansa finally sat down and started picking a bit of everything from the table.

Plate full of food, she asked: “So: what is the plan for today?”

“Well there are a few issues I need to go over with Davos about the-“

“-Stop! No work. If you really want me to stay with you, I’m not going to stay here all by myself, wallowing in boredom until you come back!”

Clearly surprised by the interruption, Stannis tried to explain: “It won’t take long. I just need to quickly see to a few things and then we can spend the rest of the day together.”

Determined, Sansa replied: “Nope: no work.”

Stannis frowned: “No work?”

“Yes: no work. We are taking the whole day off.”

He looked at her as if she was crazy: “T-taking the _whole_ day off?”

Looking at his confused expression, Sansa couldn’t help but feel a little sad for him: “Gods... have you never taken a full day... just for you?”

At the question, Stannis looked out in the distance, thinking about it... _\- Oh Gods, he has to think about it_...

“I... I... maybe.... well...”

Sansa felt her heart rip for him.

Shoulders slumping, he nodded in consent: “Ok, maybe it is time for me to ... have a _whole_ day off...but what are we going to do?”

“Surely there is something you would like to do?”

Seeing his eyes darken, as they unconsciously raked her bathrobe-covered body, Sansa hit him softly as she chastised him: “Not that, something else...”

Sounding like a petulant child being denied his favourite treat, Stannis sulked: “Fine...”

He then straightened himself, and looked back out onto the view, thinking of another option. Thankfully, soon after, his face cleared and a small smile played on his lips.

“I have it, but I need to do one thing first.”

Sansa shook her head: “No. I said: no work what so ever.”

“I just need to check one thing. It that has _nothing_ to do with work... I promise, it’s to do with today.”

Sansa narrowed her eyes on him. After a pause, satisfied by her quick scrutiny, she sighed: “Fine, but no dilly-dallying.”

His lip quirked: “Yes mam’.”

Before he gave her a quick peck on the lips and disappeared back into the hall.

 

. . . . . . . . .

 

Feeling exited by the new prospect of the day, Stannis quickly moved down the hall to Davos’ quarters.

 

He had barely reached the door when it opened and his query emerged. Looking through the suitcase still open in his hand, Davos asked: “Are we heading to the office soon?”

“Actually, no; I’m going to relax today.”

Davos stopped moving through the papers and looked at Stannis with the most confused expression: “Relax?”- The word coming out as if it was a foreign expression he had never heard of.

“Yes: _relax_. Isn’t that the thing you’ve been pestering for me to do for what ... the last ten years?”

Still gapping, Davos just stayed silent, looking stumped.

Getting irritated with his friend’s reaction, Stannis continued his earlier train of thought, hoping Davos would return to his competent self: “Where is _Proudwing_ at the moment?”

“It’s... it’s in Dragonstone Harbour.”

Stannis frowned, the answer not pleasing him. - _Dragonstone is too far away, even if it is by boat_...

“What about _Fury_?”

“I believe Robert left it in Duskendale port.”

Stannis gave a small nod of approval: “Great, that’s only three hours away by motor, just about. With a good wind, it could even get here faster. Have it brought to the Kings Landing, and prepared for use.”

“You want to go sailing?”

Taking out his phone, Stannis affirmed his friend’s quite basic grasp on the situation: “Yes I do; the earlier the better. Hopefully Alayne and I will have most of the afternoon and evening to enjoy it.”

Davos gave a bemused expression, shaking his head slightly.

Oblivious to this, Stannis continued to look down at his phone, looking at the weather and wind previsions of the day, trying to plan the best course of action:

“Now, it’s barely ten at the moment, which means hopefully the boat will be in the harbour by one, at the latest... Ideally it would be great to be on the water by two, after the boat been checked over and re-supplied. It’s sunny and not too cold, but best add extra layers in the cabin, just in case.... That way we can go farther out in the Bay. Could hopefully eat dinner before heading back in-”

“-Yes you do?”

Looking up in from the phone in confusion, Stannis frowned: “Sorry, what?”

Looking from Stannis to the master suite, back to Stannis, Davos repeated his earlier question: “You want to go sailing with Miss Stone?”

“Yes, yes I do. I’m going out sailing with Alayne. I thought that was fairly obvious. It’s not like I would leave her here and go sailing by myself. I don’t know if she can sail but that doesn’t mean she can’t join in. In any case, I can always show her a few manoeuvres... or, worse comes to worse, she enjoys the view and the breeze.” _– And me_...

Stuttering a bit, Davos seemed to be trying to understand what Stannis was telling him, as if he had suddenly started speaking another language: “Yes... well, yes ... hughh...you are taking the day to relax ... relaxing by going sailing with Miss Stone... “

“Yes, I am – we are.”

“Miss Stone and you.”

Now his teeth were definitely started to grit: “ _Yes_.”

 

Getting exasperated with Davos and having to repeat everything several time, Stannis turned his attention back to his phone.

Planning the day further, Stannis quickly checked his calendar:

“... Actually, thinking about it, since we are going to go on the _Fury_ , we might sleep on deck tonight and come back to Kings Landing before my first meeting tomorrow... That means need to prepare a picnic for dinner tonight, as well as a light breakfast for the morning.... Ask Massey to remove my meeting with Imry Florent. I saw him last week; have no idea why he would want to see me at 9:30 tomorrow morning... With that fixed...that means I only need to get to BI Tower for the Highgarden Meeting, at 10... Both Cressen and you are prepared for it, right? It’s not only the Tyrells now, but the Martells and Targaryens. We need to make sure all goes well; this could be very good for us.”

Wanting confirmation that of the importance of the meeting was going through to Davos, Stannis looked back up from his phone. However, what he was faced with didn’t reassure him at all:

Davos was looking at him like _he_ had gone completely mad.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . .

 

After Stannis had left her in the dining area, Sansa had quickly taken a few bites of her breakfast to then go to the guest room.

 

She was now chastising herself, a good half hour later. She was only just now finally happy with the out-fit she had chosen to wear: a simple pair of black jeans that might be on the tight side, showing off her long legs, a camisole covered by a beautiful v-neck jumper that might just be showing off a bit of cleavage.

She checked herself out, one last time, looking at the full length mirror. Then her hand went automatically to the pendant around her neck, as is to check it was still there.

 _Argghh, why am I being soo... I haven’t taken it off, so why wouldn’t still be around my neck_?... _and why am I taking so long_?...

Shaking her head at her stupidity, Sansa sighed and moved to the door.

 

Once out in the corridor, she quickly looked left and right trying to spy anyone, mainly Stannis. However the hallway, and then, the living and kitchen areas were all vacant. Not deterred, she then quietly moved back down the penthouse, to the master-suite.

She couldn’t help but chuckle: _Bet he’s trying to squeeze in ten minutes of work before I join him_...

 

Smile still on her face, Sansa was about to open to push the door open when she heard Stannis’ voice on the other side. She quickly realised that he was on the phone. – _Arghh, the man really needs to stop working, it’s Sunday for crying out loud_!

However before she could decide on whether she should interrupt him and possibly reprimand him on breaking his promise, she stopped dead as she heard a few words of the conversation. Her heart beat faster as Sansa was unable to stop herself from leaning closer to the door and listening in on the conversation:

“... _of course sweetheart.... yes, I miss you to... no, no just a few business meetings, you know: boring work... tell you what, when I’m back home, we can spend the whole of Saturday and Sunday just the two of us._..”

Her heart was now pounding as Sansa pulled back not wanting to hear anymore.

 

It took her a few minutes to fully process what she had just heard: Stannis on the phone, not with a work colleague or potential client but with... his ‘ _sweetheart’_...

Thoughts till reeling inside her, Sansa slowly moved back to the guest room.

 

When she had researched Stannis before coming back to the penthouse on the second night, she had checked if he was married or not. Nothing had popped up. She had begrudgingly accepted at the time that it was none of her business if the man was married and potentially cheating on his wife.

 _But now_...

Now, after he had forced to stay ‘as his guest’ and had _repeatedly_ slept with her... and had given her a necklace!....

Finally inside the room, Sansa started pacing, thinking about the situation.

 

 _The Fucking Ass_!... _I fucking knew it: men can’t be fucking trusted! Rule number fucking 5_!

 

Going over the words she had heard, it seemed that Mr Fuck-Face was clearly in a serious relationship: he had talked about ‘ _their home’_.... No wonder he had freaked out about her getting pregnant: how would he explain to his ‘ _sweetheart’_ that he was possibly going to have a child with another woman.

The gall of the man: asking her to stay with him till he was going to return home... _return back to **her** more like_!

Then she stopped in her tracks: _what if he’s engaged to her_?... _What if he **is** about to get married?_

As soon as the thought passed her mind, the image of Stannis in a church standing next to some bimbo-blonde-bitch popped up... quickly followed by another: the image of a small child that looked like a small version of him, being held in bimbo-bitch’s arms...

The images made her suck in a breath of pain, feeling as if she had just been stabbed in the chest. She then started hating herself, frustrated, when she realised her eyes were getting blurry.

 

It had all been just a fucking... _game_ to him; she was just an ‘extra’ to his business trip.

 

Then another thought passed her mind: he was just like Ramsay... well not the whole ‘torture-donjon’ thing, but the rest, yes...

Sansa was brought back to the memory of all those years ago, to _that_ day, to the few minutes before she had truly understood the extent of her husband’s depravity. She had watched in the shadows as Ramsay had kissed and groped Myranda, with the two clearly planning to do much more...

She remembered how she had felt so confused... so betrayed... At the time, she had believed herself in love with Ramsay and the sight of the two had killed any of those feelings, replacing them with loathing and jealousy...

 

... _and now I’m the other woman_.

With the thought, Sansa couldn’t help but feel sorry for Miss ‘bimbo-blonde’. She probably didn’t know how much of an ass her fiancé was... _Stannis_ was the guilty party not _her_.

As the thought sunk in, the only thing that reassured Sansa was the fact that she wasn’t as bad as Myranda... of course she hadn’t the ‘ _craziness’_ of the woman, but neither had she known until _now_ that she _was_ the other woman.

 _\- But now I do_...

That with, the memory of the betrayal she had felt realising Ramsay was cheating on her, Sansa decided that it was best that Ms ‘bimbo-blonde’ knew her fiancé’s true nature before the ‘I do’s’. Hopefully she would be able to save one person from a possible disastrous marriage... _not that you can go much worse than mine_.

 

Thoughts still reeling inside, she went to the bathroom and rinsed her face, trying to clear her mind and remove any traces that Stannis had affected her. – _No! This is about him being a fucking two-timing ass, trying to have the cake and the baker_...

Now, just pissed off, feeling a bit like Lady Justice and the need for scorned-women to stick together, she came up with a plan of retribution.

 

Within moments, she went back into the room to the phone, and dialled ‘ _1_ ’.

A woman’s voice answered: “Front Desk, Anya Waynwood speaking, how may I help you?”

Using the most girly voice she knew, Sansa replied: “Hihihi... hello Anya, I’m in the penthouse with Stanny and I was wondering if you could help me... Stanny and I... I mean Mr Baratheon and I just had the bestest news ever and we so want to celebrate... So I thought: _Champagne_!”

The woman on the other side, clearly interested in what Sansa was saying, eagerly replied: “You would like some champagne brought to the penthouse ... any particular vintage in mind?”

Still in her girlish voice, Sansa replied: “The Dom please... Stanny really likes it!... But wait: I totally want the rest of the hotel to celebrate with us, so could you serve a glass of champagne to everyone who is at the bar and restaurant as well.” _– Stannis can definitely pay for a few bottles of Dom Perignon... at least it will probably be cheaper than a huge wedding ... or a messy divorce._

“Of course mam’-“

In mock-shock, Sansa interrupted Anya’s reply: “-Oh! Wait, wait, wait... just realised: mine can’t have alcohol in it 'cos of the b-... humm...anyway, mine cant have alcohol! ...So that means two bottles: real Dom Champagne for Stanny and non-alcoholic for me... and the real thing for the guests as well...”

 

Sansa could hear the smile on the woman’s face with the piece of gossip she had just been handed, when she replied: “Of course, straight away.”

 

 


	21. Chapter 20 - ... just a simple misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis receives some news...

 

After his frustratingly repetitive talk with Davos, Stannis quickly went to the master-suite to join Alayne, who, he noted, was no longer in the dining room.

He was a little deflated when he found the bedroom empty. Nevertheless, he figured that she had gone to the guest room to dress. _– I should probably have her clothes brought here with me now...she definitely doesn’t need the other room anymore...not after last night... and this morning..._

 

Using the time to his advantage, he first quickly called Shireen. The call proved a good idea when Stannis realised how worried his daughter was in not receiving a call from him last night and also by the fact that they had never been separated this long.

After reassuring her, Stannis frowned upon hanging up. Shireen was and always had been the most important thing in his life; from the moment he had first laid eyes on her in the hospital, even before when Selyse had informed him that she was finally pregnant. But here he was: prolonging his stay away from her, forgetting his daily calls to her ... because _some_ _woman_. Conversely, as soon as the thought set, another challenged it: _no_ , not _some_ woman: _Alayne_. There was no woman like her; no woman had ever affected him so much... had brought such primal urges out of him... such passion that he didn’t even know had existed in him. - _She really has done a number on me, to make me forget my priorities so.._.

Chastising himself from his lack of focus, Stannis decided to move past these unsettling thoughts and instead called Massey to inform him of the changes of the day and for tomorrow morning. Unfortunately Massy seemed to be suffering of the same symptoms as Davos, since Stannis ended up having to repeat himself several times: ‘ _No, I will not be working today’..._ ‘ _Yes, the meeting with Florent needs to be scrapped’... ‘No, I won’t be at the office till 9:45 tomorrow, just before the Highgarden meeting_ ’.

With the lack of focus his staff seemed to be experiencing, Stannis also decided it best to call Duskendale Port himself, to make sure that _Fury_ would be on its way to Kings Landing very soon.

Hanging up after the call, a headache building, Stannis sunk in his chair, his gaze unfocused on the files covering his desk.

_... Gods... what is happening to me... to my staff...?_

 

It took several minutes to compose himself; straighten himself. Seeing as Alayne still hadn’t showed up – _I_ _will never understand why it takes so long for women to get ready, especially if they are already as gorgeous as her_ \- Stannis decided he might squeeze in a few minutes of work, just to make sure that at least _he_ was prepared for the Tyrell, Martell and Targaryen groups tomorrow. - _Just ten minutes, Alayne will never know_...

However, barely three minutes had passed when his phone rang. Not looking at the screen, he answered:

“Stannis Baratheon.”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN KEEPING FROM ME?!”

Robert’s voice boomed so loudly from the other end of the phone that Stannis was sure the whole hotel had heard him.

Fearing permanent hearing damage, Stannis moved the phone from his ear. _–Gods, what does Robert want now?_

However before Robert could inform him of such, or Stannis had a chance to ask him, Davos rushed in the room looking rather pale. Thinking the two issues might be linked, or, even if they weren’t, Davos’ situation would be of a truer nature than Robert’s outburst, Stannis decided to cut his brother before the tirade continued:

“Robert, I can’t talk right now, an important matter has come to my attention that I need to deal with. I will call you back later, hopefully when you have regained your senses.”

“DONT YOU BLOODY DARE-“

**_-Click_ **

The end of the threat was never heard. Stannis placed the phone back in its base, before he slouched over the desk, closing his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I can finally hear myself think again.”

After giving another sigh, he straightened himself, and opened his eyes to focus on Davos.

“I can assume from your face that, indeed, there is an important matter that has come up?... Possibly the same one that Robert was bellowing to the whole of Kings Landing about...?”

Mouth slightly open, Davos only nodded slowly, as if he wasn't sure how to find his voice.

Looking down at the files in front of him and thinking of the key meeting tomorrow morning, Stannis started worrying: “ _Oh Gods_ : has Robert actually read one of my emails for once and has seen ‘ _Rhaegar Targaryen_ ’ written on the contract?... The man will be the downfall to any progress for Baratheon Industries; I never understood why the Board insists he should still be CEO.”

Thankfully by now his friend seemed to have regained the power of speech, making Stannis look back up at him: “Huuugg... no, well I don’t think so. I think Robert’s call is to do with an entirely _different_ matter.”

Stannis frowned, not at all reassured by Davos’ words or the fact that he was still pale as a White Walker. “What is it?”

Shifting forward, Davos mumbled: “Well... hum... here best if I show you,” before he placed his electronic tablet in front of Stannis.

Confused from Davos’ words and Robert’s call, it took Stannis a few moments to comprehend the words he was reading. It was the titles of several different News - or more likely gossip rag – articles that all seemed to revolve around one thing: _him_.

 

**_‘A joyous occasion in the Baratheon Family?’_ **

**_‘Stannis Baratheon drinking some champagne: that in itself is cause for celebration, but wait, there might be more!’_ **

**_‘A little stag, or should we say Bambi(no), to finally put a smile on Stannis Baratheon’s face?’_ **

**_‘Is Stannis Baratheon actually following in his older brother’s footsteps?’_ **

 

At Stannis’ continued silence, Davos spoke again: “We’ve already received several calls, one from _The Landing Times_ and another from _The Mockingbird_... your brother Renly also called... all would like ... confirmation on-”

 

Stannis frowned: “-How... how did they hear about the possible pregnancy? Was it Dr. Pylos? Surely we paid her enough money to keep her mouth shut?”

Davos shook his head and sighed: “No, Dr. Pylos did not go to the tabloids... Miss Stone did... Well, no: technically she told the hotel front desk, who then in turn went to the tabloids, but surely she would have known what would happen!” he ended the statement with a scowl.

Stannis still very much confused, asked his friend for a clearer explanation: “Sorry, _what_? You aren’t making any sense: What do you mean Alayne went to the tabloids, but didn’t actually go to the tabloids, but then went to the Front Desk?”

Running his hand frustratingly through his hair, Davos reiterated the facts:

“Within the last hour, whilst you were on the phone, Miss Stone called the front desk. The hotel knows that a woman has been staying with you in the penthouse the last few days... so when she talked about ‘ _wonderful news’_ , ‘ _celebrating_ ’... and, as you pointed out, they also know a doctor – a _gynaecologist_ \- was called on not four days ago...well one thing lead to another...”

Huffing, Davos then added in a mumble: “...and let’s not forget the champagne.”

 

His thoughts reeling in his head, added by Davos’ words, it took Stannis a few moments to compute all of what his friend had said: “Champagne...?”

“Yes, it would seem that Miss Stone ordered some champagne to ... _celebrate_ the occasion.”

Stannis frowned: “Surely she isn’t going to drink champagne if she is pregnant?!”

Clearly that was not the response Davos was going for, since his friend blinked a few times to him, his mouth gapping.

“Huuu... n-no... no, she ordered non-alcoholic for herself...”

Composing himself, Davos continued: “But that’s what I’m trying to explain: Miss Stone called the front desk saying that you ... you two wanted to ‘ _celebrate’_ because you had just had wonderful news, and then she ordered a bottle of _Dom Perignon_ for you, and a non-alcoholic bottle for herself, and then she ordered a glass of champagne for everyone in the bloody hotel, so they could join in on the ‘ _celebration_ ’!”

Stannis stayed silent for a long time, going over what Davos had just told him...

...if it was all to be believed: Alayne was _pregnant_ with _his_ child.

She had probably taken a pregnancy test after he had left her... or she had been ill and then taken a test?... surely it would take longer for a pregnancy to ‘make itself known’: hadn’t Selyse have to wait about two weeks to know if she was pregnant?... and where had Alayne gotten the test from?... no, that was not what really matter right now...

Then another thought popped in his head: thank all the different Gods he had insisted she stay in the penthouse!...

...And now he had a real reason for her to stay! No matter everything else, Alayne couldn’t stop him from taking care of her whilst she was pregnant with his child!

 _Gods_!... what if she had left after the doctor’s visit and had never told him of the pregnancy, and she had ‘ _taken care of it_ ’!

He growl at the thought. - _No, that is definitely not going to happen_!

 

By the end of his internal monologue, Stannis couldn’t help but smile: _I’m going to be a father again!... and Alayne is going to be the mother_!

The image of her swollen with his child flickered through his mind. - This was turning out to be one of the best days of his life! First, all the great morning sex, now this...

... _Hell, if the information is accurate, I might **actually** have a glass of champagne_!

 

But first, Stannis needed to understand why Alayne had decided to inform the hotel staff before him that she was going to have his child.

Ignoring Davos, Stannis left the room to join the possible mother of his child.

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

At long after her call to the front desk, the gravity of what Sansa had just done sunk in:

_Gods why am I always doing stupid things around Stannis?!... Never have I been so impulsive and reckless... well, except for maybe when I shot Myranda and locked Ramsay in his dungeon-_

- _Stop! No Ramsay!... Gods, why do I always compare every situation back to Ramsay?! ...This is about me... me and Stannis... and me doing stupid things whenever he is around_!

 

Shaking away her thoughts of Ramsay, Sansa started pacing around the room and doing a mental damage analysis of the current situation:

 **_Rule 1: Don’t say or do anything above the absolute minimum._ ** _– Well that one definitely went out the window: I think I went above and beyond with **that** little phone call._

 **_Rule 2: Don’t create links between you and anything._ ** _– Well, the jury is still out on that one..._

 **_Rule 3: Don’t stay in the same place longer than six months._ ** _– The only possible good thing about this whole stunt: Stannis will think I’m a complete madhouse, will kick me out and I’ll soon be on my way to my next destination._

 **_Rule 4: Don’t attract attention._ ** _– Definitely attracted attention._

 **_Rule 5: Don’t ever trust anyone; especially a man._ ** _– Well after Mr. Baratheon’s lovely reminder, I definitely won’t forget that one._

_Yep, I definitely need that new rule: **RULE 6: DON’T do anything stupid**!_

 

She was so into her thoughts that it took her a few moments to realise that someone had knocked at the door and Stannis had walked in from the lack of an answer.

It was when her eyes finally noticed the tall, large form of the man in front of her that Sansa finally stopped moving around in circles.

Mind still going a little haywire, Sansa still noted that fact that Stannis didn’t look angry... he actually looked pleased... _very_ pleased: he had a genuine _smile_ on his face. She had never seen him with a smile on his face... _well, except for after... after having sex - **great** sex - with me..._

Sansa wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he wasn’t angry or the fact that he was actually _smiling_ that unsettled her the most.

 

“...Alayne?”

Blinking a few times, Sansa realised that Stannis had called her attention a few times already.

“Y-yes?”

At her answer, Stannis moved a little closer to her and took her hand his, his eyes pouring into her own, he gave her a serious but gentle tone, as if he was chastising a child:

“Apparently I have been quite generous to the hotel today... and to the tabloids. Care to explain to me why several people in the Hotel’s restaurant and bar are thanking me?... and why my brothers are calling me non-stop?...”

Sansa couldn’t help but frown at how caring Stannis was being: _Why isn’t he angry... why isn’t he yelling_?

Sansa played ignorant: “Uhh... I don’t know?... Well, I did order some champagne for us... and for the hotel, so that’s maybe why the hotel is appreciative of you.... B-but I have no idea for your brothers... maybe they haven’t received news from you in a while and are worried?”

Clearly it was not the reply Stannis expected, as his hand slowly dropped hers and his eyes questioningly went from her face to her stomach and back again to her face.

“So... you have no idea why several people are speculating that I am soon going to be a father?”

“No...”

Stannis blinked and then frowned at her reply: “So... you didn’t tell the Front Desk that we had received wonderful news and that we wanted to celebrate?”

Sansa still didn’t understand why Stannis was not angry?... _surely Blonde-Bimbo would have heard the ‘news’ by now and demanded some kind of explanation from Stannis_?

Still playing the dense card, Sansa replied: “Ohhh... that... she thought that meant I was pregnant?... no, of course not: how could I be pregnant, ever since Thursday we’ve been careful on that front.”

Still frowning, Stannis insisted: “But then why are we celebrating?... and why-“

\- _Vibrations_ \- his phone more likely- interrupted, coming from his pocket. – _Miss Bimbo-blonde_?

looking at his trouser's pocket, Sansa asked: “Are you going to answer that?”

Not even taking the phone out, Stannis answered her, ignoring the vibrating: “No. Whoever they are they are definitely not the one I want to talk to right now. _Now_ : please explain to me what we are celebrating, if you are not pregnant?”

“The woman at the front desk obviously misunderstood the situation: we are celebrating the fact that you are finally taking a day off.”

Stannis looked at her like she was crazy. – _Finally a normal reaction_...

Slowly he repeated what she had just said: “Celebrating... the fact that I was taking the day off?”

“ _Yes_ : you told me you have never had one, so this is definitely a momentous occasion, no? Going more than... what ...fifteen years, without a Sunday away from business issues?”

Gritting his teeth, Stannis frowned further: “But why did you ask non-alcoholic champagne for yourself then?”

“Well _I’m_ still working aren’t I?... for all intensive purposes _I_ am on the clock, no? Or do you not want to spend the day with me anymore?”

At the reply, Sansa clearly saw Stannis’ jaw clenched and his eyes shine to the extent that she took a step back, worried. – _Now is that anger I’ve been waiting for_...

Then Sansa remembered she had some anger of her own: Stannis had been playing her this entire time! And he has been cheating on Miss Bimbo-Blonde!

Before Stannis was answered, Sansa continued, her own anger now building: “... does that mean you are returning to your ‘ _sweetheart’_?

The last word made Stannis stop in his tracks, clearly taking him off guard. However, like most of the conversation, his reaction was unexpected: he frowned in confusion.

“Sweetheart?”

 _Really !? He’s now going to be the one playing the ‘ignorant card’. Well at least I’ll give him that: he is as good an actor as Ramsay_...

 _Gods, I really need to be more careful with the men I sleep with_...

Teeth somewhat clenched she retorted: “ _Yes_ , your _sweetheart_. Surely being gone for so long, she is worried about you and wondering what you have been up to these last few days?” – _Or who you’ve been **fucking** behind her back?_...

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

 _Wh-... what the... what the **fuck** is going on?_...

 

Stannis was getting more and more confused.

The day was definitely not going how he had planned: first he had to repeat himself several times to Davos... then to Justin Massey, then the whole of Westeros thought he was going to be a father... but then actually no: Alayne was just ‘ _celebrating his day off_ ’, really?... and now she was talking about some ‘ _sweetheart’_?...

 

 _\- Has the whole world gone completely **insane**_?

 

His head about to explode, Stannis sat down on the bed, and ran his finger though his hair.

Mind a little clearer, Stannis pulled the small amount of patience he still had and looked at Alayne: “Could you please explain to me who this ‘sweetheart’ person that you are referring to is?”

Alayne blinked, and then scowled, clearly not liking the question. Then huffing, she spoke to him like he was a five year old:

“The wo-man you are cu-rren-tly see-ing, the woman you on the phone with earlier... that woman.... that ‘ _sweetheart’_.”

Stannis frowned, the only female he had been on the phone with recently was his daughter... surely she didn’t mean ... : “ _Shireen_? Are you talking about Shireen?”

“Oh... she has a name: _Shireeeeen_ ” Alayne replied with a sneer at the end.

 

Stannis was a little perplexed to Alayne’s reaction to his daughter, Shireen was the sweetest child he had ever known, and he wasn’t just saying that because she was his daughter. Then his thoughts shifted, his mind whirled from gradual confusion to understanding...

... _Could it be?... surely not_..., his eyes pierced her own: “are you _jealous_?”

 

Alayne blinked a few times, and then looked away, a small blush appearing on her skin, before she huffed:

“No... no, I’m not! I just don’t like to be used, played with!”

But her words didn’t deter Stannis: _She is! She is jealous_...

Stannis had seen the feeling enough times on his brother’s face every time a girl went to another man instead of him, or on Cersei Lannister’s face when someone said a younger woman was ‘beautiful’ to recognise jealousy... Alayne was _jealous_... jealous of a non-existent woman... This could actually still be one of the best days of his life!

Unable to hold back the joy he felt, or the absurdity of the situation, Stannis burst into laughter.

“Hahaha!! You _are_ jealous!... I’ll think I’ll have that glass of champagne now!”

Alayne growled: “I don’t think cheating on ones fiancée is cause for celebration!”

Calming down from his reaction, Stannis grinned down at her: “No... No, its not. But what if I told you Shireen is not my ‘ _fiancée’_ or my ‘ _sweetheart’_?”

At the response, Stannis noted a glimmer shine in Alayne’s eyes, before she frowned further, insisting: “ _Noooo_ \- I heard you: you called her your ‘ _sweetheart’_... not that it matters to me, it’s just that I rather not be played for a fool. I don't care if you are in a relationship, I would just like some kind of warning, in case some blonde-bimbo-whatever comes at me one day accusing me of ‘steeling’ her man. I refuse to be a pawn in an unknown game!”

“So if I told you Shireen is in fact my _daughter_...from my _deceased_ wife... it doesn’t affect you in anyway, except reassurance that ‘some blonde-bimbo’ won’t come to attack you?”

Alayne gaped, blinked several times and murmured really low: “... _daughter... deceased wife_...”

As if realising the pause, she then finally straightened herself as if everything was perfectly normal and replied with confidence: “Well, if there are no scorned fiancées I need to worry about, then we can get on with the day, no?”

 

Still feeling on a high and not wanting to press the issue or push his little sprite too much, Stannis simply quirked his lip and answered:

“Of course... let’s have some of that champagne you ordered.”

 

 


	22. Chapter 21 - ... just a gentle cruise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis surprises Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know much about boats, so if I wrote something wrong, please forgive my ignorance.

 

 

After their glass of champagne, Stannis had gone to talk with Davos; probably to go deal with the repercussions of her call with reception.

 

Having time on her hands, Sansa decided to check on the phone that Stannis had returned to her.

After unlocking the code, she checked her messages. There were a few voice mails, most left by an unknown number, the first one starting from Wednesday: “Hi Alayne, its Chataya! Welcome to the agency. Call me tomorrow.” Then there was another one talking about a client that booked her for the next evening and then one on Thrusday morning, basically berating her about the whole ‘no condom’ incident. - Not wanting to hear anymore, Sansa just deleted the lot of them.

There were also two from Shae; the first dating from Wednesday night: “Call me when you get home! I’m dying to know how date two went?!” And the second was Shae wanting to know information about her ‘incarceration’.

After deleting all messages, she phoned Shae, quickly going over the main bits of the last few days with Stannis, telling her about the meal, the necklace, and then explaining the ‘champagne- people thinking Stannis was a father’ issue from an hour ago. Shae had primarily really happy for her for having lots of ‘great sex’ and for the necklace, though she hadn’t understood why Sansa had taken the time to cook for him, bordering on saying Sansa was completely nuts and explaining to her that it was the man job to take care for _her_.

 

The call finally over, Sansa’s thoughts went to the conversation Stannis and her had had before the glass of champagne.

She was not jealous.... she had definitely not been _jealous_. Her moment of stupidity was just a result of comparing the situation to the one with Ramsay and Myranda. It had been thinking about Ramsay which had made her momentarily loose her mind. Nothing more.

– _Yes, that’s definitely it... definitely not jealous_.

Not wanting to think on how convinced – or unconvinced – she was of her own thoughts, Sansa grabbled the other phone – ‘ _the Podrick Phone_ ’, as she now called it - to text Arya, saying that she was still fine (still alive).

 

When Sansa headed back to the out-door deck, she noticed Stannis had already returned and was looking at his phone with a frown. Just as she was about to ask about the scowl, the phone rang and Stannis pressed the **_‘decline’_** button, before looking up at her advancing.

“Ah, you are back. Were you able to calm all your friends and family that you are in fact not pregnant with my child?”

Sansa gave a tight smile. “Apart for the very few, no one knows that it is _me_ who is here with _you_ , so none would think to associate me with this ‘misunderstanding’.”

Stannis stayed silent at the comment, just watching her as she sat down next to him on the deck chairs, as if contemplating what to say next.

“I must say: that was quite a reaction to finding out – thinking- I had a fiancée though. Most women, I imagine, would have broken things, yelled at me... But then again you are a ‘ _professional’_ so you obviously wouldn’t react like a scorned lover. Yet, I assume most women in your profession wouldn’t have done anything at all.”

Annoyed at the return to the earlier subject, Sansa insisted: “As I said, I only care about not coming between the two people of a relationship. I have been in a lovers-triangle before and have no wish to re-experience it or the backlash.”

Again, he studied her intently at the reply, before clarity and understanding shown in his eyes: “You were the wounded party.”

It wasn’t a question, more a statement, yet Sansa couldn’t help but look away. - _Actually, in the end, Ramsay and Myranda were more wounded than me: one with a knife in his leg, the other with a bullet in her head_.

Looking down at the floor, she replied with a sigh: “Let’s just say a lot of my life has been defined by that moment.”

“Is it why you refuse to share any of yourself with me?”

Sansa scoffed: “I am pretty sure I share plenty of myself with you... or have you forgotten the wakeup call this morning, or the shower session?”

She heard humour as well as a certain huskiness to Stannis’ tone as he replied: “Vividly. I think I will remember those to two moments till my dying day. But you know what I mean: you refuse to share anything that is... _not_ physical.”

“I believe that’s part of my job: ‘the physical’. If you want the emotional part, you should probably get a girlfriend.”

 

There was a long pause before, she heard Stannis speak: “Not all men are like him, you know... whoever this man was...” – _Yep, there are definitely no men like Ramsay – thank the Gods._

Stannis continued: “In any case he was an idiot...”

Sansa gave a snort: _if only idiocy and cheating on me were Ramsay’s biggest flaws._

“...he was an idiot to not see how lucky he was to be with you.”

At the comment, Sansa’s head jerked up, his dark blue eyes meeting and holding her own.

Unable to break from his stare, Sansa felt her heart beat just a little faster.

 _Thump, thump... Thump, thump_...

Then her lips moved, her tongue licking her lower lip as if they were not controlled by her ant longer.

 _Thump, thump... Thump, thump_...

At the gesture, Stannis’ eyes momentarily broke from her own, going to her lips, before going back up, to stare at her once more, though she noticed that the blue of his eyes was even darker than before.

_Thump, thump. Thump, thump._

 

Thankfully, before she was able to do anything stupid, his phone decided to ring once more.

The moment broken, Sansa looked away, sighing, trying to calm her heart. She heard him exhale as well.

“My brothers. I hope you are happy; both gossip worse than old women.”

Sansa wondered what Stannis _would_ say to his brothers about her, when he did finally talk to them. Before thinking about actually asking him the question, Mr Seaworth came out onto the deck. After giving Sansa a scowl, he turned to Stannis and informed him: “The requested... _package_ will arrive in half an hour.”

Stannis gave a satisfied replied: “Good, thank you Davos. Make sure all the preparations are in order for this afternoon as well as tonight and tomorrow morning.”

The older man gave a curt nod - and another scowl in Sansa’s direction – before leaving them alone again.

Once Seaworth left the room, she mumbled: “Such a shame. I really thought I would put a smile on that man’s face with my lemon tarts... Alas, I’m pretty sure Mr Grumpy probably likes me even less now.”

Stanis looked from the door from which Mr Seaworth had just left to Sansa with a confused frown: “Mr _Grumpy_?”

Sansa shrugged: “Yea, he never smiles when I’m around; a permanent scowl on his face.”

Stannis’ lip twitched: “I must say, I’m usually the one people say is lacking in humour, and Davos is the one to pacify they.”

“Guess that makes me special.”

Stannis nodded in agreement: “You are _definitely_ special. And not only because of that.”

Sansa forced the blush away. “Such a charmer.”

“Well there again: it’s only with you. I usually leave the charming to my brothers.”

“I find it hard to believe that you are not as charming as your brothers. Surely women fall for all three of you.”

Stannis shook his head: “Robert gets the women. Well less so now, but still a fair amount... or he goes to an ‘ _agency’_.” He added looking straight at Sansa.

At her lack of a comment, he continued: “And Renly gets the men; though he seems to have calmed down a bit and getting serious with one in particular.”

Sansa teased: “And you? ... you get both: the men and the women?”

Stannis’ lip twitched: “No. Definitely no men. As for the women, before you there was only one: Shireen’s mother.” The comment finished with a touch of sorrow, making Sansa feel awkward in the change in conversation.

Not wanting to hear about Stannis’ one true love.

“So... Does that mean I will also be charmed by Robert?”

Stannis growled: “I won’t let either of my brothers near you. You could probably even turn Renly!”

 

Speaking of the devils, the phone rang once more.

Pressing ‘ ** _decline’_ ** once more, Stannis rose from his chair: “Come, I can’t continue with all this nonsense, we’re going out.”

Sansa straightened herself, intrigued, her heart rate rising: “Going out?... Where?” – _I haven’t been out for days!_

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m not one for surprises; they don’t always turn out the way you would like them to.” – _Especially when they involve my dear husband_...

Not deterred by her words, Stannis looked at her his lip twitching: “Well, hopefully mine will be different. In any case, you owe me after that little stunt.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Sansa retorted: “I thought we cleared this up already: the whole thing was a huge _misunderstanding_ between what I said to the Front desk and what she interpreted.”

Stannis’ lip twitched: “Of course it was.”

 

After silently following him inside the penthouse, Sansa insisted with a different tactic: “If I don’t know where we are going, how do I know if I’m appropriately dressed?”

He eyed her outfit. “That should be fine, maybe an extra sweater or jacket. But don’t worry too much about it: more items will be available on site anyways.”

 

 

. . . . . . . . . . . .

 

 

As they weaved through the streets of Kings Landing, heading to a part of the city she had never been, Sansa could feel the butterflies in her stomach; a mix of excitement and apprehension. At one point she did also have to remind herself that Stannis was **not** Ramsay. Stannis eyed her a few times, probably sensing her worry, until finally he spoke:

“We are nearly there.”

“So, does that mean you are going to tell me our destination?”

Even as he looked straight ahead, concentrating on the road, Sansa noted the flicker of concern in his gaze and voice: “Have you ever been sailing?”

Sansa raised her eyebrows, her eyes bulging a bit, before a smile spread on her face: “ _Sailing..._? We are going sailing?”

“So, I can assume from your response that ‘ _sailing’_ is good?”

Sansa gave a small nod, as her smile grew a little more: “Definitely, but I must warn you I’ve never done any, it’s the concept that appeals to me. I might actually hate it.”

“Well then I will make it my priority that you have the most enjoyable _experience_ whilst on the boat.”

Sansa chuckled: “We are still talking about sailing, right?”

Stannis’ lip twitched as he replied: “Of course.”

 

 

When Stannis had said ‘sailing’, Sansa had envisioned a small boat for just two people. Instead, once they arrived at a private area of the marina, she was presented to a long, low, sleek thing that only be described as a sailing yacht. On the outside of the cruiser she noted the name ‘ _Fury_ ’ written in black with a gold border.

As a few staff members seemed to still be adjusting a few things with the preparation of the boat, Stannis took her hand, and brought her on board. The inside was as impressive as the outside: all gleaming silver and polished wood, masculine lines and smooth curves.

He gave her a quick tour of below deck: a kitchenette area, next to a small lounge, leading to a shower room, two small staterooms, a few storage areas, and then finally the main stateroom, complete with a large bed for two and windows on either side giving views of the bay and marina.

Only allowing a brief glance at the bed, Sansa left the cabin with a shy smile, not commenting on the obvious thoughts they were both having – at least going from _what_ she had felt whilst squeezing past Stannis.

 

 

It was only when she came back up, above deck, that Sansa was taken aback by the fact all the people that had been organising everything seemed to be leaving, with only the two of the remaining onboard. However, here again, the fluttering in her stomach stopped her from commenting. Instead she silently watched as Stannis moved with ease around the large bar to the wheel. He started the engine, backed them out of the slip and directed the bow toward open water. When they were clear of the marina, he cut the engine and unfurled the sail, tied the line, and then did the same to the smaller triangular sail in the front of the boat.

Sitting on the side, enjoying the view – of the coast, _not_ of a certain person – Sansa couldn’t help but feel a little useless. “Can I help?”

Directing his gaze to her, Stannis reassured her: “I’ve got it.”

“I’d like to help, if I could. I didn’t come to just sit here and do nothing.”

Stannis nodded, ducking under the horizontal bar of the big sail and taking the wheel. The wind was stiff, blowing at an angle, making the sails flap. He started pointing at the different parts of the boat, giving explanations: “All right. First, a quick lesson. The small sail in front is called the ‘ _jib’_. The big one is the ‘ _mainsail’_. The big bar is called the ‘ _boom’_. The ropes are called ‘ _lines’_.

Listening intently, Sansa couldn’t help but tease: “What happens if I accidentally call one a ‘ _rope’_?”

Stannis blinked a few times at the question. He was about to answer, before he noticed the humour on her face, making him scowl. – _Woops..._ Obviously he took sailing as seriously as he took his work.

A small frown still visible, however one more of concentration, Stannis continued: “The next thing is to know that sailboats don’t travel in a straight line, and they don’t work with the wind coming from directly behind. You sail in a zigzag pattern, which is called ‘ _tacking_ ,’ keeping the wind at an angle. So when I tell you we’re _‘coming about_ ,’ the boom, the big bar holding the bottom of the mainsail, is going to swing around. You have to pay attention and make sure the boom doesn’t knock you overboard when we’re coming about. I’ll warn you before I bring us about, but just be aware, all right?”

Sansa nodded in understanding, ready for further guidance.

He gestured at the line leading to the mainsail. “Untie that, then pull the line until the sail is taut.”

They were moving slightly, the sail flapping, the bow angled toward the Kingswood shoreline, heading south. Sansa loosened the line he had indicated, wrapped both hands around it, and pulled hard. Unfortunately, as she pulled, the mainsail tightened, and the line grew taut, becoming harder and harder to pull as the wind caught it. A gust of wind blasted the sail, nearly jerking the line from Sansa and pulling her off-balance. She pulled again, but not before another gust hit. Hauled forward, she had just lost her footing when she felt a strong presence envelope her, helping her set back down and pull the line.

Not turning her attention away from her task, Sansa only felt Stannis move slightly away from her, ready to help again in case he needed to. She wrapped the line around her fists, braced one foot against the side of the boat, and pulled as hard as she could, then wrapped the line around the tie-off bracket thing. The sail was bellied out but firm, not flapping in the wind anymore and Sansa felt the sailboat pick up speed immediately.

Grinning, Sansa couldn’t help but do a little victory hop, before she turned to face Stannis, and then jump into his arms, her smile becoming larger. “I did it!”

Breaking from the embrace, she glanced up at Stannis, whose own eyes sparkled with a mix of humour and pride, before suddenly turning into a mock-sternness: “You really shouldn't jump on a boat or attack the others members of the crew, it could lead to people getting hurt.”

Letting go, Sansa gave him her best humbled face: “I’m sorry, could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?”

His lip twitched as he replied: “I’ll try, but it might take a little more than just an apology.”

Batting her eyelids, Sansa gave a cheeky grin: “Of course, _whatever_ you think is best.”

 

As Stannis returned to the wheel, leading them to the east, Sansa moved back to her earlier seat, next to him, and asked: “When did you learn to sail?”

“I’ve been sailing my whole life. I grew up in Storm’s End, sailed most weekends with my father and older brother. When Robert left for boarding school, Renly replaced him. After...hum... after my first year of university, I ended up working on a fishing boat during the whole of the summer. It was a valuable experience. Hard work, but satisfying. It’s also then that I met Davos.

That actually became my first business. I bought that boat, hired the same crew that had taught me the business. When I went back to university in the fall, Davos had finally sorted out a few troubles, and was able to take care of the day to day business for me, whilst I wasn’t on site. Eventually, after graduating, I bought a second boat and then a third. I still own several boats in Essos, actually. Some are commercial fishing boats, some are private charters.”

Shyly, Sansa asked: “Your first job, was... was it after your parents died?”

Stannis only gave a curt nod in response, before continuing with his tale: “I still sail every now and then, by myself or with Davos, but opportunities have been fewer. But I never really use this boat, it’s a bit too... _flashy_ for my taste. Robert and Renly use this boat more. I have my own smaller sailboat in Dragonstone, which I mostly use.   - _Coming about_.”

He loosened the mainsail line, held on to it with one hand, and spun the wheel with the other, bringing the bow around, and then he re-tied the line again. He made it look easy, but Sansa remembered how hard the wind had pulled at the sail, and thus the line, nearly jerking her off her feet, yet he’d held it in place with one hand while operating the wheel.

“I try to make time to sail, as much as possible. I’ve even started showing Shireen a few techniques.” He said with the ghost of a smile, before nearly whispering: “It’s my one real escape.”

 

Sansa watched Stannis as he continued to man the boat. He seemed relaxed, the lines of tension and stress on his face smoothing away, his posture at ease. The wind ruffled his hair and snapped the edges of his blazer and the navy blue sweater underneath it, moulding the fabric to his body – not that she was looking or anything. He had one hand on the wheel, the other stretched out to grip the back of her chair, his knuckles brushing her shoulder blade.

They were silent for a long time, watching the sun move, watching the cityscape to the north and the forest trees to the south pass by and the open water in the distance grow closer. Eventually, the bay opened more and they were too far away from properly distinguishing the land surrounding them. Sansa could understand why he loved it, why this was his own getaway from life and work. The sense of freedom, the salt spray of the water on her face, the wind carrying them away from everything… She had only felt a similar emotion when in the Godswood either alone or with her siblings.

He seemed content to just sail without talking, and so was she. They chatted here and there, mostly him prompting her to tell stories about herself. Thankfully Sansa was able to divert the conversation back to him. She learned that he had sold his fishing business for a profit, and gotten into the import-export industry, and then eventually sold that business for an even bigger profit, when his older brother seemed to be sinking Baratheon Industries into the ground. At the age of twenty-four, he joined his older brother and helped expand BI from real estate and urban development, to a much larger and multi-sector based company.

As he spoke, Sansa got the sense of Stannis as a man but also as a businessman. Especially in the business world, he did not seem to completely trust anyone, except for maybe Davos. His brothers seemed to be a special case; he could not rely or even really trust either of them but did depend on them to a certain extent, like he had to rely on the company’s many employees.

They lapsed into silence when the stories reached a threshold and both seemed content to let the silence stretch.

After a few hours, Stannis loosened the mainsail and let the boat slow to a stop, then furled the sails and let down an anchor. To the west, the setting sun provided a beautiful backdrop for a dinner at sea. Someone, probably a member of the hotel staff, had packed cold cuts, cheese, fresh-baked bread, a bottle of wine, some lemon water, and fresh fruit. Stannis assembled a sandwich for her and was about to pour her a glass of wine, when Sansa stopped him:

“I’ll have lemon water as well please.”

After a brief pause looking at her, Stannis gave a small nod and poured the flavoured water into the glasses, and then held out his glass for a toast.

“To a pleasant day and a long night.”

Sansa grinned as she clinked his glass with hers. “I’ll drink to that.”

Dinner finished, they lounged on the deck and watched the last rays of the sun. It was oddly comfortable: lying next Stannis, not doing anything. They didn’t need to fill every moment with idle chatter, both seemed to be content to let silences stretch for long periods of time, enjoying the moment, enjoying each other’s company.

 

He was softy brushing her hair through his fingers, soothing her, when Stannis asked: “You asked me earlier if my first job had anything to do with my parents death. It did, it was the first time I was truly at a loss. I didn’t understand how it could have happened. For the first time I felt the need to escape my life, so I did something completely different.”

Automatically, Sansa took his hand in hers a squeezed it reassuringly. After a brief pause, he asked: “How old were you when you first left at a loss in the world? A need to escape?”

Sansa gave a small frown at the memory: “I was twelve.”

“Twelve... that seems quite young.”

“It was. It was right after the ‘doll incident’.”

“What was that?”

 

With the sea breeze, Sansa found her mind and tongue loosening. Or maybe it was the man lying next to her and the fact that he had shared a painful part of himself with her that influenced her. Exhaling slowly, she explained:

“Not long after my twelfth namesday my dad gave me a doll, a beautiful porcelain doll... like those that creepy men keep collections of in glass jars. It was also around that time that I experienced my first real girl crush and, instead of being grateful and thanking him for the beautiful gift, I yelled at him for treating me like a little girl, saying that I was too old for dolls...”

Hiding the unease of the conversation, she sighed without looking at him. “I’m boring you. Your life is far more exciting for my silly story to be of interest.”

However, with a gentle but commanding voice, Stannis insisted: “Tell me the rest of the story, Alayne.”

“...It ... it had been a trip just my father and us girls; though he always had trouble with having girls. My sister preferred being a tomboy and, as I said before, I was starting to only have eyes _for_ boys. A few days after giving me the doll, my little sister accidentally broke it whilst playing with a wooden sword. I hadn’t actually touched the doll since my dad had given it to me but when I saw all those pieces of porcelain lying on the floor I yelled at her, telling her I hated her. Later that evening, dad came to my room, sat me down and we talked. He told me no matter how much I might hate my sister at that moment, she was my sister and we should always look after our family, no matter how much they disappoint us.”

Even if her father’s words, ten years later, seemed as alive today as they had so long ago, Sansa couldn’t help but think if that not for her need to protect her sister and brothers, Sansa might not have latched on to Ramsay so much and so quickly.

Her voice a mix of pain and anger, Sansa softly finished: “... Dad died four days after the incident. The doll ended up being the last present he ever gave me. I remember when we first told me of his death, all I could think about was those pieces of porcelain lying on the floor. Even at his funeral, all I could think about was how much I wanted to hate him, he had broken his word, abandoning us; all I could think about were those words he told me and those pieces of porcelain on the floor.”

 


	23. Chapter 22 - ... just a quiet evening of contemplation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis and Sansa enjoying the rest of their 'day off'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised: Mature content definitely applies for this chapter (though if you've made it this far into the story, I guess you might of known that this was not going to be just a 'quiet evening' on the boat)

 

 

When Alayne finished her tale, Stannis brought her closer against him and pressed a chaste kiss on her temple.

The silence grew but both of them seemed content by it. – There was nothing to say.

When he had earlier talked about his own parents, Stannis had been grateful that she hadn’t said anything; none of those empty condolences people had said when they talked of his parents, as if they had known them. She had simply held his hand tightly in her own.

Now it was his turn to simply hold her.

 

At one point a gust of wind blew, making the boat shake slightly and her shiver against him. With a touch of humour she murmured: – “Winter is coming.”

Enveloping her more into his warm body, he kissed the top of her hair and he hummed into her hair: “We can go inside if you like?”

Still looking out into nowhere, she answered: “You can stay up here, I ... I would like to take a shower ... to refresh myself.”

 

Understanding her need to be alone with her thoughts, Stannis simply opened his arms, letting her slide from them.

She gave him a quick peck before going down below deck.

 

Now sitting alone, Stannis watched the last specks of day light still gleamed over the water as he started getting lost in his own thoughts.

His first real thoughts were that of anger and frustration for her; that she had known the pain of losing a parent so young. Nevertheless he also couldn’t help feel pleased that she had shared the memory and accompanying pain with him.

Earlier, he hadn’t minded talking about himself. He had actually felt quite pleased to talk about his life with Alayne. Work was the easiest to talk about. But he had also talked of his childhood with Robert and Renly, his friendship with Davos, even a few mentions of Shireen.

Only two subjects he had avoided: his parents and Selyse. The first because he had always felt ill at ease by others false sympathies, and the second since it did not seem right to talk about Selyse to his current lover; neither for Selyse or Alayne.

On the other hand, every time he tried to move to the subject of Alayne, she would successfully avoid a question about herself and divert the subject back to him, forcing himself to bite down his frustration.

 

His scowl pacified when he remembered her enthusiasm when they had sailed – when she had sailed. He had been so pleased that she was not only expressed joy at his sailing idea but also in her insistence to learn his favourite pass time and had eagerly followed his instructions. Her eyes had shinned... her bursts of laughter... She had looked so free... no cares or worries... it had reminded him of the playfulness she had shown when she had first swum in the penthouse pool...

A similar enthusiasm and excitement that she showed in the bedroom...

And he had wanted to take her. But he had forced himself to stay calm, to keep his distance from her. He had only come close when she had needed help and he had soon moved away before he made a fool of himself.

Her laughs... her joy... just her, him and the sea felt so right... it could easily make him forget himself.

It had not helped his control when he had felt her eyes following him as he had moved around the boat. He couldn’t deny he had not loved the attention and had felt the need to prove his sailing skills to her. Prove himself to her... prove himself as a man.

Looking at their relationship, the physical already could not be more perfect – he had never felt so connected to anyone else and he refused to believe that it wasn’t the same for her, that she felt anything similar with men. And it was important to mention that she had not only shared the painful memory of her father’s last gift to her but she had talked a bit of another painful experience: her lover cheating on her – the bloody idiot.

Was he the father of ‘Rickon’?

She had said it herself: a lot of her life had been defined by that betrayal of trust.

And now it was for Stannis to convince her that not all men were like her ex-lover... that _he_ was not like her ex-lover... that she could trust _him_.

 

Her voice broke his thoughts.

“Stannis?”

Looking round to face her questioning gaze, as she stood at the entrance to the cabin, Stannis realised that whatever light had disappeared and he had been sitting in the dark.

Sighing, he stood: “I think I might take my shower now.”

 

 

. . . . . . . .

 

 

Sansa looked out from the stateroom’s window.

After clearing her head in the shower, she had gone up to find Stannis lost in his own thoughts. Since he hadn’t noticed her she had felt compelled watch him silently – scared to break the peace, but also liking her unseen perusal of him.

In the darkness he had looked so calm and at peace, even a small scowl present on his lips.

 

Embarrassed by the fact that she had been spying on him, she had called out to him.

 

And now she waited.

She had not bothered to get dressed; instead she had merely put in a white cotton robe that she had found in the room. Silently she hoped that soon even the robe would be superfluous.

 

The sound of the door opening made her turn around.

There was silence as his eyes found hers and then he moved slowly towards her.

 

 

Feeling as if stalked, she only stood up and straightened herself as he reached her, unsure of his next movements. He softy pressed his lips on her before moving his head back, his eyes studying her reaction.

She blinked and gave the smallest nod.

Then, with no warning, he pushed himself against her, making her move backwards as his mouth crashed onto hers.

There was desperation in the kiss... a need to relieve himself of something... of what she had no idea, nor did she care.

As his lips continued to attack hers, he crushed her further against the wall, his erection pressing through his towel and her robe to her stomach. So close yet so far.

Sansa clawed at his shoulder and writhed against him...feeling...

... feeling just a hint of the friction she needed

... feeling the hardness of his cock

... feeling the soft fabric of the robe

... feeling her own desire spreading through her.

 

Stannis’ hands slid down the robe till they reached the crease under her cheeks. He clutched her thighs, and lifted her. In response, the lower half of Sansa’s robe opened up, baring her to him. He held her legs up, one in each arm. She can feel his firm biceps against the backs of her thighs. Sansa wrapped her legs around his waist, her head bumping against the wall. It was an uncomfortable position, but she didn’t care. If he shifted the slightest amount, he would be where she desperately needed him. The edges of his towel parted. Sansa wriggled her hips and legs, feeling his hot hard cock against her inner thigh, shifting to get it closer, desperate.

At that point, she was ready to take what she wanted whether he was willing to give it or not. He bit her skin in his favourite spot, at the hollow of her shoulder, as he grinded his hips up, sliding the thick soft tip against her opening, crushing in to rub along her clit.

In one of her last moments of sanity, she panted: “We should probably get a condom out now.”

He grunted.

Not letting her go, he shifted her so one of his arms was freed. At the movement, Sansa tightened her hold of his neck and hips. His left hand gripped her tighter and stretched other arm till he was able to grab a shiny packet that had been placed on the small table near them.

With a dexterity that seemed impossible, he opened the packet with his teeth, before lifting her and wrapping himself.

However he did not sheath himself in her. - Instead he resumed rubbing the tip against her wetness.

 

She gasped, clinging to him, wrapped around him, waiting.

She couldn’t deal with the teasing.

She tarred her lips away from his and tugged his earlobe with her teeth. She whispered: “Are you going to fuck me now?”

Instead of answering he growled.

He lifted himself into her, filling her, every deep part of her throbbing with pleasure. It was so tight... so ...oh...

He started to move, slowly tauntingly, lifting her up and guiding her back down around him, as each thrust explored more, went deeper.

His lips found hers once more, devouring her.

Each languid stroke massaged her insides, heightening her sensation, sending her higher and higher as his chest crushed her further into the cabin wall.

Just as she thought it couldn’t get any better, he sped up, his thrust longer and faster at the same time; more intense, more forceful.

With each thrust she couldn’t help but moan as the air spilt out of her lungs.

Just as she felt the sensation building to near breaking point, his gripped tighten against her thighs, his chest pressed even harder against her and he hissed in the shell of her ear: “ Say. – _thrust-_ My. – _thrust-_ Name.” – _thrust_

The demand and accompanying each word break whatever part of her was still holding back. She couldn’t move, only feel and experience the pleasure of his thick, long cock stroking her, slamming into her, as he grunted.

“Stanniiiisss...”

She barely registered herself tighten around him, a thousand explosions going through every cell of her body, as he gave a few more urgent thrust as he bit her neck, before joining her feeling of bliss.

 

 

Senses returning she felt his chest rise and fall against her breasts, his panting breaths fluttered against her neck.

She could only hear their laboured breathing.

He held her still for a few moments longer as their breathing slowed, probably trying to regain himself as well.

Finally, he raised his head and looked straight into her eyes, his own still a very dark blue. “What are you doing to me?...”

However, before she could respond, possibly worried of the true answer, he kissed her tenderly, before pulling out of her and setting her ever so gently down onto the floor.

Her body was still trembling, from the experience they had just done, but also from knowing that she didn’t want to know the real answer to the question if it was directed at her instead of him.

 

 

. . . . . . . .

 

 

 

Stannis woke up the next morning feeling Alayne nestled in his arms, completely relaxed, completely naked, a small smile on her lips.

Due to the earliness of the hour the sun was not yet up, however this did not hinder Stannis from studying her face... and maybe shift the sheets out of the way, to look lower. He noticed a few freckles he could have sworn weren’t there earlier in the week. He assumed they had most probably appeared with her extended period in the sun the last few days. All he knew for sure was that they made her even more beautiful, more unique...

His hands lazily moved along her skin from her cheek down the swallow of her neck, his finger tips brushing over the bite he continued to mark her with each time he took her. He then slowly let his fingers glide from her shoulder down her chest between the swell of her breasts. Under one of the last ribs he noticed a small birth mark. As he continued to take in every detail of it, of her, he felt a slight shift in the bed.

Stannis raised his gaze to find her looking at him exploring her.

Not breaking eye contact, he moved back up against her, and softly pressed his lips against hers, before whispering “Good Morning.”

 

The only response was a soft smile before she looked away from him shyly as her cheek went rosy.

Not wanting her to hide behind herself again, his placed his finger against her chin and forced to meet his gaze.

After the longest pause, he gave her another kiss, not breaking eye contact, before he murmured against her lips: “I feel like there are a thousand thoughts rushing behind those beautiful blue eyes and I want to know every single one of them.”

He didn’t so much as twitch, just holding her stare, waiting, because she looked like she was torn between bolting and actually accepting the idea.

 

Blinking a few times, her eyes looked at him in hesitation: “I...”

Stannis stayed silent, waiting.

Breaking contact, she sighed: “I had just realised we met a week ago...” with small chuckle she then added: “...all because of a messed up nose job.”

Knowing that she had been about to say something else, and also not fully understanding the comment, Stannis frowned. Noticing the confusion – and ignoring the frustration - written on his face, she further explained: “Shae... the woman who I replaced... the one who was suppose to be your ... _date_ on Monday evening, had to cancel because of a bad reaction to a surgery...”

He threaded his fingers through her hair, as he gave her another soft kiss.

“I feel I should send her a thank you...“

“Maybe you would have preferred her... I bet you, you’ll meet her and regret ever having any interest in me...”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

Resting her head on his chest, her fingers slowly started tracing his neck and collar bone as she spoke: “Huumm... maybe...”

There was another pause, her fingers trailing further down him to his ribs, a mirror of his earlier exploration of her.

“If not for so many little things... for me coming to Kings Landing... for Shae’s nose... we would have never met...” More sombre, hand going still, stare looking in the distance, she then added: “If not... if not for that doll I would never have met you.”

 

Not liking the though, Stannis covered her hand with his and held her closer to him: “And yet, all those little things made sure that we _did_...”

With humour in her voice, poking him, she added: “... and, because of your over-the-top, caveman reactions, I was forced to stay with you a whole bloody week.”

Nipping her lip, he growled: “... maybe it’s your actions that force me to react ‘over-the-top’ and primitive.”

Bighting his bottom lip in response, Alayne answered: “Well... we certainly can’t have that... I would rather you docile and at my mercy.”

Stannis quirked an eyebrow looking at her face: “Is that so...and how do you plan on ‘making me doc- _ILE’?!_ ”

   - His voice hitched as she cupped him before her fingers lightly scraped his hardening cock.

Breathing heavily, he felt her remove her hand. He was about to protest when she pushed him to the side, and ordered him: “Stand up.”

Frowning, now very much aroused, Stannis huffed in frustration: “I don’t think you understood how this works.”

Pushing him further, Alayne insisted: “Stand. Up. There - in front of me.”

Intrigued, Stannis stood in front of her as she went on her knees facing him.

Looking down at her on the bed, Alayne’s posture compared to his, as well as her big blue eyes looking up at him, Stannis accepted that maybe this position wasn’t soo bad.

 

Then she licked him where he wanted her most.

\- _Yes, definitely not bad at all_...

She licked him a few more times as her hands slowly moved up his thighs, softly scratching him, making him close his eye and cry a small: “Fuck.” – _Great... back to in-articulation..._

Soon she had him in her mouth, continuing with her lovely... _really_ lovely attention to his person...

All of a sudden, somewhere in his foggy brain, he realised that her hands were not going to their intended target. Instead they moved to the back of him and cupped his cheeks, before dipping her finger between them.

In a hoarse voice, he couldn’t help but question the action: “Alayne? What are yOU-”

  - But his voice hitched, stopping any further inquiry, when she circled her forefinger at his centre. To the sounds of his groans, she prodded and prodded, and then ... _penetrated_.

“ _Uhnnn_!”

His thighs and cheeks automatically squeezed, as his arms reached above him for the ceiling, to try and gain some balance back.

He groaned: “...Alayne... you’re going to make me cum too soon...”

But she didn’t seem to listen or care, as he felt a second finger moved further in, opening him the slightest amount. His cock jumped in response, slamming further into her.

Thankfully she didn’t seem to mind the lack of control he had, as she continued to respond with enthusiasm as he continued to thrust into her. More and more often, his cock persisted to twitch in response to her ministrations and fingers.

 

Probably sensing that he was losing all control, she moaned again, as he bellowed: “ _Alayne_!”

 

 

 

. . . . . . . . .

 

 

A couple of hours later, Stannis was still on a high when he reached BI Tower.

It’s only when he opened the door to his office that he realised that this was the first time he was not looking forward to a Monday full of business contracts, meetings and studying the stock exchange, and would rather be doing something _very_ different.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it might make me a few days to finish the next chapter, and now that the ‘gentle’ cruise is over, here are a few ‘hints’/’winks’ for the chapters to come (NOT in order, just to confuse you):
> 
> Gifts - Sensible versus passionate - Notes, texts, calls - Family inquiries - the opposite of boring - contrary to expectations - no place for jealousy – husbands, wives, lovers, paramours, fiancés - family House words - Distance versus closeness


	24. Chapter 23 - ... just a small change in direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis' Monday at the office.

 

 

As Stannis opened the door to his office, he quickly noticed that his chair was already occupied... by his _brother_.

Frowning, he looked from Renly to the name clearly indicated on the door - _Yep: ‘Stannis Baratheon – Baratheon Industries CFO’..._ before giving his brother another pointed look as he moved further inside.

Unfortunately, Renly, who either didn’t seem to take the hint – or, more likely, ignored it – exclaimed:

“Stannis, finally! Why weren’t you in this morning? I have been waiting since 8:30!”

Ignoring the question, Stannis indicated, with a hand gesture, for his brother to get out of his chair: “I believe your office is one floor below, manned by Ms Tarth and is ten-times more colourful. If you still cannot find it, I am happy to request Massey escort you to it.”

At least Renly got out of the chair.

On the other hand, he did not leave Stannis’ office; instead he started waving his hand about as if Stannis was the one being ridiculous: “Yea, yea. My office has loads of colour, actual taste and personal decor, and you definitely need me to rearrange your office space, and your chair was wayyy too up-right... But that’s not what’s important right now: since when do you come into the office at 9:40, especially on a Monday?!”

Finally sitting in his chair, Stannis fixed whatever setting Renly had put in on, before starting to re-arrange the mess Renly had created with the small figurines Shireen would give him for his namesdays. Scowling, he looked up at his brother: “Why are you interested?”

“I want to talk to you – I’ve been wanting to talk to you since yesterday morning! But you’ve been ignoring all my calls! And Seaworth won’t give me _anything_ – such a bore that one.” Renly added rolling his eyes.

Desk finally acceptable, Stannis sunk back into his chair, and bore his eyes into Renly’s:

“Fine, what do you want to talk about? – But before you answer: I will remind you that we’re at the _office_ , and I am your _superior_ , not some twenty-something secretary gossiping over coffee. I am _only_ discussing BI issues, **_nothing_** else. And make it quick, I still need to look over Davos and Cressen’s last minute changes for the Highgarden meeting that is in 15 minutes. Are Mr Tyrell and his brother ready for it by the way? – Are _you_ ready, since you _are_ our liaison with Tyrell Inc.?”

But Renly seemed to ignore everything Stannis had just said: “Seriously Stan, you can’t just leave me in the dark! I am your _brother_! Your blood!... You should share all private matters with your family... I mean I understand if you might not want to say _everything_ to Robert, he’s a huge man-whore who will probably try and seduce her... whoever she is, if she is half decent. – By the way: do you know that Robert has also been calling _me_ incessantly, as if it’s _my_ _fault_ that you are keeping secrets from the both of us.”

“It’s _both_ your faults.”

 

 

. . . . . . . . . .

 

 

Fifteen minutes later, Stannis walked into the meeting with Renly still hot on his heels, still eager for any crumb of gossip.

 

Coming into the office before the meeting had been a waste of time, he should have stayed another 20 more minutes with Alayne... - _In Alayne_?

No, instead he had ‘ _enjoyed’_ side-stepping Renly’s every personal question by asking about the Highgarden Meeting.

Once inside, he noticed Loras Tyrell eagerly wanting to join his (not-so-secret) lover and Stannis. Wanting to get rid of Renly, and definitely not interested in speaking with Loras Tyrell, Stannis only gave the man a curt nod before passing him to reach Davos and Cressen by the coffee table. Unfortunately this manoeuvre hadn’t seemed to have deterred either man; as he prepared his coffee, he noticed the couple talking in hushed tones and looking at him more than occasionally. – _Gods, this is ridiculous. We are here to work, not gossip like a bunch of old hags!_

Forcing himself to ignore them, he looked at the door to see three men enter.

He had previously met none of them but had either read about or at least had heard of each.

The first to enter was Loras Tyrell’s oldest brother, Willas. Unlike his father, (and brother) the Acting CEO of Tyrell Incorporated was said to be studious, educated, and was said to have an amiable disposition. The cane he held and the limp on his right leg reminded Stannis of the accident he had heard the man had experienced as a teenager: an equestrian fall, resulting in Willas Tyrell to abandon a promising career in horse riding and instead turned to work for his father.

 

Setting his coffee down, he greeted Willas Tyrell with his usual non-scowl and firm hand-shake:

“Mr. Tyrell, welcome to Baratheon Industries. Stannis Baratheon. - Thank you for coming over on such short notice. I hope that my associate Mr Seaworth, as well as my brother, have been able to inform you properly of our growing deal and the last few changes happening.” – _Though I’m sure Renly has been ‘very attentive’ to your brother_...

“Mr Baratheon, yes: everything has been well coordinated, Mr Seaworth as well as Renly sent the revised copies of the proposal. I am very eager to look over these changes; brilliant idea.” Turning to the other two men, he then added: “– Have you met Doran Martell and his brother, Oberyn Martell?”

At the introduction, Stannis turned his attention to the two olive-skinned men: Sunspear Corporation CEO and his number two. Quite a few years between the two brothers and that was only the first of many differences between them – just like him and Robert.

The oldest, Doran Martell, was dubbed in the business world ‘the only sensible Dornishman’. Unlike many from Dorne, he was said to be a cautious, reasoned man; he was a man who weighed the consequences of every word and every action.

On the other hand, his younger brother was said to be the total opposite; Oberyn Martell seemed to be lead in all things by passion and his temper above all else: the ‘True Dornishman’.– Not too different from Robert, though Oberyn Martell’s ‘tastes’ were said to be _broader_ than his brother’s.

 

Shaking Doran Martell’s hand, he gave him the same business face as Mr Tyrell: “No, I haven’t yet had the pleasure, welcome Mr Martell... and Mr Martell...” shaking the younger’s hand. As the two greeted him in turn, Stannis couldn’t help but feel a strange sensation from Oberyn Martell. Even after their hands had released Oberyn Martell’s gaze lingered on him, scrutinising him, as if he was a puzzle the Dornishman was trying to figure out. Thankfully Doran Martell spoke, and Stannis was able to somewhat ignore the younger Dornishman:

“I must say we were surprised to be contacted by Baratheon Industries, Mr Baratheon. Not that the contract doesn’t seem interesting. It definitely would be a very lucrative investment if it was able to pass all approvals and regulations... It is the opinion I believed your company had with regards to Dorne that is what worries me.”

Trying to smile, and reassure the man, Stannis replied: “If there have been any... misunderstandings, I hope these can be resolved as we work together on this project. It has been a great interest of mine to expand our client base these last few years, and I have been wanting to work with Sunspear Corporation for a while... However, I would also like to point out - give credit where credit is due - and say that the idea of including your company in this project was not mine. It was a ... friend who gave me the idea of utilising you and your renewable developments.”

Before Doran Martell could ask more on the subject, Rhaegar Targaryen and Arthur Dayne came in, meaning the meeting could start.

Unfortunately the stares and interests on him did not to stop. Dayne greeted him with an unusual questioning face. Even during the meeting Stannis couldn’t help but notice several different pairs of eye shift randomly to him when Davos or Cressen were explaining in further detail certain issues...

Teeth grinding, he would just continue to stare directly at his colleagues, until it was his turn to speak.

 

. . . . . . .

 

“Targa- Rhaegar, what can I do for you?”

The meeting had finally ended after three hours of conversations, inquiries, revisions... – and many, many stares – when Rhaegar came up to Stannis just as he was about to leave the room.

“Stannis, I wanted to talk to you about that dinner you promised to attend. Your brother has already confirmed but, unfortunately when I tried getting in touch yesterday afternoon, Mr Seaworth informed that you were otherwise engaged... My wife, Elia, has been quite insistent to have you and your... companion to join us for dinner tonight, before you escape back to Dragonstone. And of course Mr Seaworth is also invited.”

 _Fucking great... I should have seen this coming_...

Stannis felt like he had been put between a rock and a hard place: he had no intention of going to any dinner and had secretly hoped that the invitation to one would have been forgotten.... Not to mention, he definitely did not want to bring Alayne... However he definitely did want both the Targaryen Contract as well Targaryen Corporations’s involvement (as well as Martell) in the Highgarden contract, and it would definitely help for both if he went to the dinner. – Not to mention that Elia Targaryen was the sister of the Martell brothers.

However, before he could answer, he felt Renly place his hand firmly on his shoulder: “Of course Stannis can come, and he will definitely bring his lovely lady as well. I am sure Elia is eager to not be surrounded only by men.”

Stannis huffed: “I’m sure Mrs Targaryen will have enough female company without Alayne being needed.”

“Ahhhh _A-lay-ne_... No, no , no Alayne _has_ to come. Isn’t that right Rhaegar?”

_Crap... why did I say her name?!... (Maybe because you love saying it...)_

Irritated, he turned back to Rhaegar. Unfortunately seeing the dragon’s amused face, he realised he was about to lose the battle.

“Actually Stannis, Renly is quite correct: Elia loves to meet new women living Kings Landing. When Ashara goes back to Dorne and our children are in their own homes, she is always trying to find new friends to socialise with...”

Knowing there was no point in explaining that Alayne was not in the same social circles as Elia Targeyrn or Ashara Dayne, Stannis gave the man a tight smile(-ish): “Of course. What time should we come over?”

 

. . . . . . . . . .

 

Stannis had barely finished his late lunch whilst reading over the latest business journal when Davos knocked and entered his office, looking concerned.

 

“We need to talk Stannis.”

Frowning, he put the journal down and eyed his friend: “As long as it’s not about Miss Stone. I had to threaten Renly with the Axell Florent contract when he followed me here and wouldn’t leave.”

Unfortunately, by Davos’ face, this was clearly what he wanted to talk about. – _Alayne is mine damn it! Can’t they just leave us alone_!

“Stannis... we do need to talk about this. First of all, there are few things that actually need to be sorted for tonight: Massey confirmed that Miss Stone will be joining tonight. If that is the case, the hotel will probably need to be informed if a suitable dress will need to be found for Miss Stone to wear.”

Acquiescing that his had a friend had a point, Stannis nodded: “Fine. Have Massey arrange something with the hotel... - but nothing too revealing! The dress needs to remain... _sophisticated_.”

Davos nodded in agreement but instead of moving back out, he closed the door and sat down in front of Stannis’ desk.

Giving Stanis an even more worried look, Davos spoke: “This dinner... do you really think it’s a good idea?... bringing Miss Stone to it?”

“Do you really think that was my choice?” Scowl deepening, Stannis asked. – For the last ten years Stannis had successfully avoided any dinners at a potential clients house. Even for meals provided by Baratheon Industries at a restaurant were done with one of his brothers, _never_ him. Until now.

And he was bringing Alayne.

Huffing Davos looked straight at him. “Stannis, this is me talking as your friend who has known you over fifteen years, who you helped out through my smuggling hearing and sentencing, who you gave management of your first ever business.”

After the statement, Davos stopped, probably for effect, or for Stannis to contradict any of what he had said.

Not liking the way Davos had started the possible lecture, Stannis clenched his teeth and ‘ripped the band-aid’: “Get on with it Davos.”

“This whole situation is a huge mess Stannis. We are going to dine at Rhaegar Targaryen’s home, with his family, as well as the Martells and _both_ Tyrell brothers, and your brother. And you are going to let Miss Stone come? I know it wasn’t your idea and you tried to get out of it, but you can’t let this happen Stannis, you just can’t!... We have barely anything on this woman and you are about to let her near some of our most important clients.”

Growling, Stannis retorted: “Don’t you think I know that?! But I couldn’t really tell Targrayen, actually no, the woman I am currently with is actually an escort and has no interest in socialising with any of them. – And it’s not her I am worried about, it’s them! They are going to look at her like some... some endangered species in a zoo...”

Rubbing his temples, Davos replied: “I need you to listen and keep an open mind... can you do that Stannis?”

Eyes narrowing, Stannis only gave the briefest of nods.

“We know nothing about Miss Stone. _Nothing_. And that what worried _me_ the most. It worries me how she affects you and how she could affect any potential business you have.” He raised his hand, making Stannis stop from interrupting him.

“Yes, she helped us out on the Highgarden Contract, but that doesn’t mean anything looking at the bigger picture: nothing about Miss Stone makes sense. Nothing. My team has been trying to find anything about her for the last week and have come up with crumbs. And the things we do find make no sense.

Sallador Saan and Meizo Mahr has searched and scanned every part of Gulltown, have used all their different contacts, savoury and less savoury: there is no proof that she has ever been to the place. You have to agree that she wouldn’t easily be over-looked or forgotten... Someone would have said something by now. Men are always talking about gorgeous women that ... that they would like to spend time with.

The only explanation is that the information that had been provided was false. Either she did not want the agency to know where she had previously been or she did not want... _possible clients_ to know where she came from.

There is more: we were able to... _look_ into Chataya Agency’s files: they do not have an address for her – but they do for most of their employees.

Moreover, we have been able to get the last month footage from the security camera in the entrance hall of Miss Shae Killi building. Miss Stone has been going there regularly, once or twice per week, which proves that at least for the last month she has been in Kings Landing.

But even her relationship with Miss Killi makes little sense. She comes over regularly, but there is no indication they never go out together... sometimes Miss Killi even leaves her in her flat, whilst she goes out. Also, the visits were always during the day, except for last week: the two times she came to Miss Killi’s apartment in the evening was right before her _dates_ with you, and it would seem to be for a change of clothes. As far as I can tell from the visits, and the their calls, they obviously have some level of trust, Miss Killi seems to be her closest ‘confident’ in Kings Landing, yet Miss Killi doesn’t seem to know much about her either.”

Stannis felt his heart beating faster as Davos had continued to speak, hoping above all else that the logical conclusion was the correct one.

Alayne was really good in bed... but that didn’t necessarily mean that she had made a career of it. Not to forget that he didn’t have much experience to compare her to: just Selyse. The two of them together was definitely better than when he had been with Selyse... but it could also be something to do with compatibility? And during the last few days she hadn’t necessarily treated him as a client... just as a man. And their relationship had definitely grown from the just physical. Moreover, she hadn’t talked at all about money since the second evening.

Stannis held his breathe as he asked: “So her story that she replaced Miss Killi just for one of her ‘jobs’ could be true?... she could have been saying the truth when she said I was her first client _ever_?”

“It would seem that way...” Noticing the hope in Stannis’ eyes, Davos relented: “But that doesn’t mean we can trust anything about her Stannis. The fact that we can’t find anything about her is not reassuring. And it also makes you wonder on the reason she would pretend she is an escort, if she actually isn’t one?”

That was the question: why would she pretend she was an escort?

Even as a ‘favour’ for a friend it seemed like quite a big-disturbing favour.

“Money?”

“My first thought was money. If that is the case it would probably mean that Miss Stone is definitely in some kind of trouble, the kind you shouldn’t get involved in Stannis.”

Ignoring his friend’s growl, Davos continued: “The second idea was that she was working for one of our competitors... She’s seen your files... not the most confidential ones but quite important ones, and she clearly understands them. – Yes, she did help with developing the Highgarden Contract, having the idea of including Sunspear but maybe it’s a play of sorts: gain your trust before selling the larger idea to her employer... Or there are maybe one or two barely known laws that actually would make the contract backfire on us, creating a larger problem for us from her idea.

There is _someone_ that she has been texting regularly, and deleting the messages before we are able to look at them. And we can’t over look over the fact that Miss Killi’s most key client is Tywin Lannister’s own son. Moreover Lannister was keen to get the Highgarden Contract. And Robert, who has a ... _great interest_ in women, was the one who was supposed to come to Kings Landing, not you.”

Sighing, sinking into his chair, Davos then added: “But even that has a few holes: the relationship between Tywin Lannister and his second son is strained at best, and, from the information we’ve gathered, Tyrion Lannister seems to not like the idea of sharing Miss Killi with anyone.”

 

The speech over, Stannis just stayed silent, as everything in the last week went through his mind. “What about the whole ‘pregnancy’ issue, how would that fit into your reasoning?”

“As I said: nothing truly makes sense with Miss Stone, and there are still several holes that need to be resolved. Too many holes.”

Sighing, Davos straightened himself, looking at Stannis with the same worried expression as earlier: “There is something else...”

Stannis raised his eyebrows: “Yes?”

“When she was on the phone with Miss Killi this morning, Miss Stone asked that Miss Shae find a way to remove her from the Chataya database, remove her as an employee, she said she was willing to pay more than the commission for this week’s ‘gains’ but that she wanted any trace of her to be removed. She even said to tell Chataya that no matter what she would not be taking on other clients so there was no point in booking her with some.”

Stannis’ mind turned several times at the information...

Davos stared at him: “Should I get in contact with Miss Killi once more and demand answers?”

 

After a long moment, Stannis decided: “No, not yet. I will speak with Alayne first.”

 


	25. Chapter 24 - ... just a typical Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's Monday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Planned for chapter to be longer but decided to cut it into two parts. Enjoy :)

 

Sansa lay down on the bed in the guest room, staring up at the ceiling, hoping it would have the answers she desperately needed.

 

 _I am doomed_...

Her nights in Stannis’ arms had been the best sleep she had had in a while, and last night had only proved that truth further. She hadn’t felt so comfortable in so long; she had never felt so eager to let her walls down. Even on the boat this morning she had wanted to share more with him, but had bit her tongue from revealing her secrets. She had already shared too much of herself yesterday.

It was astonishing that they had known each other only for a week; it felt like a life time. - _One life time too long_.

Even if it had only been a week, she knew what she felt for Stannis were true feelings. Sansa was getting too attached to Stannis; she felt connected to him like she had never felt with anyone else, which is why she needed to leave. - _Today_.

Spending any more time with him could only be dangerous. Even staying till Wednesday was far too risky.

 

She huffed, grabbing one of the pillows and covering her face with it in frustration.

 

_Why NOW?... Why did this have to happen to me now?.. Why did I have to meet Stannis now?_

 

Even if ALL her rules still applied, Sansa knew that part of her was ready to trust him. But that in itself was a problem. She wanted to trust him. She wanted to tell him everything. But if she trusted him, let him in further, he could abuse her trust and play her like a fool, like Ramsay had done. Or, he could trust her, but hate her for being an adulterous-whore, and would end up resenting her for it further down the line. Or, the option she was the more likely to pick at the moment: he would trust her, and take care of her, but then there was the high risk Ramsay would find them and their combined fate would be worse than if Ramsay had found her alone.

 _No!_ \- In two years she could divorce Ramsay by proxy, but until then no men; not even Stannis. Staying with Stannis, staying in one place, would not only make her easier to find but it would also put him in danger.

Mr Luwin’s plan had been sound: hide from Ramsay, keep away from bringing any attention to herself, and hopefully Ramsay would drop-dead. Or the more likely option: she would divorce him by proxy after six-years of separation*. From there is would be easier to detach herself from Ramsay completely, and be able to access her family’s wealth to not only protect herself from Ramsay but actually have him arrested. And let’s not forget that she knew that Luwin was working hard in building a file against Ramsay and his minions for when the time came. She would also have to make sure Arya and her brothers were safe from Ramsay. – Nothing would be worse but more effective than use her family against her to bend to his will; both Ramsay and Sansa knew this. Thankfully he did not know that Arya was alive, only about Rickon and Bran possibly being alive from Theon.

As her mind continued to consider of the hopeful progression of the next two years, Sansa couldn’t help but wonder if _he_ would wait for her? A lot could happen in two years, especially if she ran from him...but if she explained why she ran, with the added fact that she didn’t want to put Stannis in danger...

Sansa huffed once more, hating the circular motion of her reasoning. It always came back to the simple truth that she had to leave Stannis: the longer she stayed, the more she would forget her rules, and let her guard down, and the higher the chance of putting them both in danger.

 

All these thoughts reminded Sansa that she also needed to erase any trace of herself as Alayne Stone, which meant that not only she needed to get back to her flat at some point to retrieve all her belongings, but she also needed to call Shae about a certain photo on a certain website.

 

. . . . . .

 

Her call with Shae had lasted quite a while. Her lorathy friend had wanted _waaayyyy_ too many details about their boat trip and wanting to know if the second ‘oral-technique’ she had taught Sansa had worked. – _Like I would go into those details_ _with her_...

To some extent she had indulged Shae since she needed a favour from her in return, but that didn’t stop Shae’s many protests when Sansa had asked to remove her from the agency’s server. No matter what Shae said, Sansa was adamant: her profile had to go and Shae would inform Chataya that she was quiting (not that she had really worked for Chataya). Sansa had to further calm Shae by saying that not only Chataya would of course have a larger commission for the week, but Sansa would also leave a little something for Shae. On the other hand, Sansa refused to answer all question about why she was leaving the agency.

 

The call now over, Sansa sighed once more into the bed, thinking of the next part of her plan: how to leave the penthouse...

She was pretty sure that Stannis would definitely not like the idea, if she told him she wanted to leave. On the other hand, she was also sure that this time he would not stop her. He would probably be very reluctant, to the point of trying to convince her with certain ‘arguments’: possibly jewellery... or, more likely, great sex... but he wouldn’t hold her against her will. But there was the added problem that he would ask why she wanted to leave him, and Sansa knew she wouldn’t be able to lie to him... nor would she be able to tell him the truth.

Going around Stannis and speaking to sidekick-Seaworth would definitely not an option, even if the man clearly wanted her as far from his boss as possible-

 

\- A knock at the penthouse front door broke her from her thoughts.

 

Frowning in puzzlement, Sansa stood up from the bed and walked out of the guest room to be greeted to a group of hotel staff: four women accompanied with a rack full of clothes and several boxes, whilst one of Seaworth’s men was closing the front door.

Her eyes darting between the women and their trinkets, Sansa confusion grew: “Yes?”

One of the women stepped forward and gave Sansa a pleasant smile: “Miss Stone I presume. Hello, my name is Ros, I am the fashion consultant of King’s Gate Hotel and this is my team. Mr Baratheon requested our assistance: we are here to help you prepare for this evening.”

Sansa eyebrows rose as her heart beat a little faster: “This evening?”

Ros‘smile grew: “Yes mam’. We are not sure what the evening he has planned entails but we were given instructions to help you find an outfit for the evening.”

Heart definitely beating faster, blinking a few times, mesmerised, Sansa couldn’t think of anything else to do but indicate them to the guest room.

 

After following the women inside the room, Sansa looked more closely at the items the women had brought with them. Racks of clothes hung patiently waiting to be tried on. Several pairs of shoes sat on the shelf at the bottom of the rack. One of the boxes looked like a cosmetics box, another seemed to be a hairdryer case, and Sansa assumed that the other two held hair products.

Sansa pulled on her lower lip, dragging it between her teeth. – _How much stuff do they need? I feel like I’m one of those ‘fix-her face shows’ you see on daytime TV_...

Sansa couldn’t help but comment: “Stannis thought of all this... even a hair dresser...?”

“To be honest Miss Stone it was his assistant who called with the details of the evening. He, like us, thought it would be a good idea to wow that man of yours.” Ros explained with a wink.

_Yeaa... of course... just make me even more desirable to the guy I’m trying to find a way to get away from..._

 

Unaware of her thoughts, Ros’ spoke, probably trying to offer some kind of guidance to Sansa’s pale face: “I thought it best if we start by selecting the outfit first. We know you size from your previous orders but why don’t you choose what you prefer from the selection.”

Trying to breathe, the ladies staring at her, Sansa went back to study the selection of dresses they had brought.

 _The Gods Old and New_...

When she had ordered clothes from the hotel, she had always asked for something more practical than stately, as she wanted to feel somewhat comfortable in her gilded cage – plus, going from Stannis’ possessiveness and stares, she didn’t really need sexy clothes to attract him. None of them were ball gowns, only cocktail dress, but looking at these dresses presented to her, Sansa was amazed at how gorgeous they all looked. They were so beautiful she was actually scared of ruining one just by picking it up.

Sighing, forcing herself to rip the Band-Aid, she randomly picked the one at the end.

 

 _This confirms it: I hate shopping... pampering is another word for torture_...

The next few hours had been spent in the spare room trying out every outfit the women had brought – some even several times. It hadn’t helped that she had no clue what she should be dressing for. By 14:00 she was exhausted... Unfortunately the torment was not over yet; even after finally deciding on a dress, Sansa only had a quick light lunch before the women informed her that they would now give her a quick hair cut and blow-drying, before makeup.

 

Finally around 17:30: the dress and heels were picked and she was now wearing them, her hair was all lovely and shinny in a loose knot on the side, framing her face, and the ladies had done up her make-up, after Sansa had insisted they keep it light and natural-looking. Sansa seemed to be free.

That is until one of the women – Joanna, if she remembered correctly – brought one of the boxes forwards. Thankfully, Sansa was relieved when the box was opened as Joanna: “Now... last but not least: jewellery.”

Even though Sansa was awed by all the sparkling necklaces, earrings and bracelets; she felt apprehension at the sight of them, and knew she would go for none of them. Instead she would go with was she had already pre-selected in her mind: Stannis’ gift, the dragonglass pendant.

“Actually I already have the perfect necklace. Thank you.”

 

 

. . . . . .

 

When Stannis arrived at the penthouse, he wasn’t sure what would exactly greet him.

Justin Massey had confirmed with him before leaving that he had indeed called the hotel to find an appropriate dress for Alayne to wear, however Stannis was worried as to what exactly Massey had specified to the hotel staff.

He was also honestly more worried by Alayne’s reaction. Since Stannis hadn’t really had the time to call Alayne, he had not warned her about the dinner that evening – or, more truthfully, he hadn’t tried to find the time to call and warn her. Part of him was worried she would have refused if she knew where they were going... _possibly even leave?– although if she is an escort, she would not leave without the money_.

Stannis shook his head at his excessive thoughts.

Unfortunately these had been running more and more in his head recently, especially after his conversation with Davos.

Stannis did not know what to think anymore.

First he had wondered if his mind playing tricks on him because he willed for her not to be an escort. But then – as Davos pointed out – if she wasn’t a real escort (even if she was really good at pretending to be one), what was she instead?...

...A Lannister or another corporation spy – Stannis couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it... Yes, she had looked through quite a few of his files... and even before Davos had pointed it out, when he had first noticed her with his files, he had been sceptical of her interest and how well her thinking process worked when he had looked through her alternative report and when she had explained it to him. - Clearly she wasn’t a novice in the world of business and finance.

And let’s not forget that she had known that her ‘client’ – Miss Killi’s client - was a Baratheon.... _Was Davos right_?

_Urggghhh...Damn Davos for putting even more doubt in an already convoluted situation!!_

 

Sound of heels clicking against the flooring brought him back to the present.

He turned to the noise then impulsively gaped: Alayne was gorgeous... well she had always been gorgeous, but now she was mesmerising...

His gaze travelled up her whole outfit: nice heels and not too short a dress still showing off her magnificent legs, a beautiful dark blue dress that was all... _thread?... lacey_? Thankfully both Massey and the hotel had seemed to follow his instructions for nothing too revealing: knee-length dress and most of her arms were covered.

Yet there was still a fair bit amount of cleavage... before he could decide whether or not it showed too much of her gorgeous porcelain skin, he noticed the necklace she was wearing, more specifically he recognised the pendant he had given her two nights ago. Upon looking at it, Stannis felt his crotch twitch as he was unable to stop himself from remembering how Alayne had ‘thanked him’ for his gift.

Coughing roughly, Stannis moved his eyes further up, to Alayne’s gorgeous face. At the same time he also noticed the small look of worry that was showing in her features, and realised he hadn’t actually said anything for the last few minutes, he had just stared at her like a complete nit-wit.

Quickly wanting to reassure her, Stannis blabbered awkwardly: “Alayne... you ... you look... _stunning_...breath taking even by the sound of my voice... I was... I was just admiring the necklace you chose to wear.”

At the answer, she automatically looked down at the pendant and, the memory of Saturday evening probably dawning on her, her cheeks proceeded to rosy.

Probably wanting to change the subject, Alayne looked down at the rest of her outfit, running her hands down the dress, patting down invisible creases: “Not that I’m complaining, but why the new outfit?”

Trying not to feel jealous that he wasn’t running his own hands down her body, Stannis looked back at her face: “We have been invited to dinner.”

 

Since he had been looking at her face, Stannis was able to noticed Alayne pale.

It took her another minute before stuttering: “A... dinner...?”

Wondering at the level of excessive panic she was displaying, Stannis frowned a tiny bit as he gave her a nod of confirmation: “Yes, a dinner at a potential client’s house.”

He could clearly still hear the panic from her voice as she replied: “Stannis, let’s be reasonable. Of course I can’t go to this dinner.”

“Of course you can. In any case, it’s your fault that we were invited.” – Well he had been invited before hand, but she didn’t need to know that. - “With your champagne order yesterday, a few clients, people I work with... even my brother, are very eager to meet you... they were rather insistent that _you_ join me tonight.”

Stannis’ didn’t think her face could pale more: “They want to meet me?... but... but I can’t join you... from what you are saying these are some quite important clients. If not you would probably not be going to this dinner at their home. I know you: you would only make the effort if absolutely necessary.”

Stannis retorted: “And it is absolutely necessary that you come as well.”

“Surely they would feel beyond insulted if they found out what I am...”

Now Stannis started grinding his teeth: “What you are? What you are is a beautiful – _stunning_ even- intelligent young woman, and my _date_.”

 

Stannis notice her pale skin go a little nosy at the compliment. Unfortunately it obviously was not enough to persuade her when she had decided to go for a different tactic: “What did Mr Seaworth think of this dinner, and the fact that I was invited?”

Stannis automatically replied: “Mr Seaworth’s opinion doesn’t matter.”

Alayne’s eyes rolled at the answer: “He is your closest confident, your first real business partner: are you really going to try and make me believe that you do not care of his opinion.”

Teeth grinding: “I do take his view in all matters, but in this case, it wouldn’t matter either way: the client was rather insistent.”

Alayne didn’t give up, her arms gesturing insistently in front of her: “But it does matter: surely if your side-kick can see how ridiculous all this is, you two could come up with some reason for me _not_ to come.”

 

At her continued reluctance, Stannis couldn’t help but wonder the reason for it. He couldn’t help but speculate if she might know one of the men... if one had been one of her clients at one point... Oberyn Martell had looked at him oddly before and during the meeting, and the dornishman was known for having a very large pallet when it came to carnal pleasures...

But then, Stannis had yet to tell her whose house they were going to... and from Davos’ reasoning and from what she previously told him, she _wasn’t_ an escort.

 

Frustrated with his thoughts and her resistance, Stannis stated: “There is another reason why Davos’ opinion is irrelevant: I want you to go.”

At the reply, Alayne blinked a few times, her eyes wide, but no words came from her mouth.

 

Finally, after what felt like hours, she sighed-whispered in resignation: “Where is it?”

“Iron Road.”

She bit her lip in a frown: “Near Dragon’s Slope?”

The answer should have surprised him: only people who had lived in Kings Landing a while would know of such a place and would call it by that nickname. But after Davos’ talk... Stannis couldn't help but follow the new direction of the conversation, and instead of answering, queried: “Alayne – how long have you been in Kings Landing?”

She frowned: “What do you mean?...“

At the non-answer, Stannis couldn't help but sigh of in resignation what he already knew: “You never lived in Gulltown, have you?”

After blinking a few times, Alayne looked away and moved to the living area: “I never said I had ever lived there.”

Following her, Stannis persisted: “You told the agency you were a platinum level in Gulltown.”

Her eyes came up abruptly, to stare sharply into his, as she gritted: “I never told the agency anything... I have _never_ lied.”

Getting frustrated by the whole situation, the whole day, the whole evasiveness of the conversation, Stannis retorted: “Why did you-“

 

-Unfortunately the end of the question was interrupted by knocking at the front door.

 

Groaning, Stannis moved back out into the corridor to see who it was. – _Better be bloody important_!

 

 

 

\- : - : -

 

 

 _This is the closest images I found to what I imagined the pendant and the dress would look like (dress should look more 'wow'):_  

[](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/shortsandramblings/media/il_214x170_824890346_7w0d_zpslqaujhu9.jpg.html) 

  

[ ](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/shortsandramblings/media/Dress_zpsmns7soa0.jpg.html)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Don’t know much about divorces, but in several countries can ask for a divorce if been separated for marriage, even other person doesn’t want to divorce.


	26. Chapter 25 - ... just a few new friendly faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis goes to answer the door, and Sansa and Stannis go to a client dinner.

 

After Stannis had left her alone in the living room, Sansa couldn’t help but be irritated... Annoyed by the dinner... by Stannis and his questions... by having keep things from him... by having to leave him... by still not having a plan...

 

Loud voices made her realise that not only had she been alone for a while but Stannis hadn’t returned, and was obviously still in the foyer.

She shifted closer to the noise.

From the edge of the living space, Sansa spied a dark-haired man as tall as Stannis, standing next to him. He was as well dressed as Stannis, but less conservative... well, there was definitely more _oomph_ and _shazam_ to the man in his dark crisp suit...

Moving silently closer, Sansa noticed the not-so-happy look of Stannis growling at the man.

Being nearer, she was also able to distinguish that even if the mysterious man was similar in his looks to Stannis, - he even had the piercing blue eyes – _though definitely not as mesmerising as Stannis’_   - he was a younger, possibly more polished... more _beautiful? -_  if a man could be called beautiful – than Stannis.

 

She continued come forward until her presence was obviously noticed by both men, as they both turned their attention to her, the unknown one grinning:

“Ahhh... my soon-to-be sister-in-law.”

Not sure if he was joking or not, Sansa blinked: “Excuse me?”

“Oh... don’t worry just some brotherly banter.” The man replied as he came closer to her. After taking her hand in his and giving it a peck, the man grinned as he introduced himself: “I am Renly, Stannis’ better looking brother.”

As Sansa continued to study him and compare his broad frame and dark hair to Stannis’, he took a step back and looked her from head to toe: “...and you are must be the mysterious Alayne... and - _Wow_!- you are stunning. I don’t know what you see in my brother, but now I can clearly understand why he has been hiding you...” Turning back to his brother, he then added: “... you should _definitely_ keep her away from Robert.”

As for Stannis, he seemed to be even more pissed off than a few moments ago, his teeth grinding loudly, glaring at his brother.

 

“Renly, why are you _here_?”

“Car-pooling. I thought it would be best if we car pooled to the dinner all together: you, me, Seaworth and the lovely Alayne... You know how we should all reduce our energy consumption...”

Stannis frown deepened, as he gritted further: “I am almost certain Rhaegar Targaryen’s house is at a closer distance to your hotel than this penthouse.”

The other man – _Renly_ \- only raised his eyebrows, in mock-surprise: “Is it?... well in any case I wanted to make sure Alayne didn’t die of boredom, from you talking about spreadsheets or what-nots, before I even got the chance of meeting her.”

Stannis ground his teeth until his jaw muscles twitched. However, his younger brother seemed to totally ignore the feral rumble and instead suggested: “Stannis why don’t you go change for the dinner; you look positively ghastly, as if you had just come from fighting Wildings. Come on, you need to get ready and there is no time like the present... And don’t you worry: I will endeavour in keeping Miss Alayne entertained.... or is it the other way round...”

_This man’s charisma is off the charts... wonder how the older brother fares?..._

Sansa noticed Stannis’ jaw clench but he didn’t say anything, probably knowing how futile any protest would be. His gaze lingered a few moments on Sansa before murmuring a short: “I will be back shortly. Renly... don’t...” Huffing, unable to finish the sentence, Stannis just shook his head before heading for the master-suite, his steps a little rushed.

 

Once Stannis had left the entrance, Renly took Sansa by the arm and lead her to the living space she had come from. As he grinned at her, Sansa recalled the very few times Stannis had truly smiled, and realised the two men looked even more similar than she had originally thought.

The grin deepening, Renly spoke: “Alone at last. Stannis is a handful, no? A silent, brooding handful... But let's not talk about Stannis, we have much better things to talk about, Alayne – may I call you Alayne?”

Heart beating a little faster in realising that she was in fact alone with Stannis’ brother, Sansa only gave a nod. Renly smile intensified, his eyes sparkled as he looked into hers: “Thank you: _Alayne_ is such a lovely name. Well, now you have to tell me everything else about you – starting with how in Westeros* was Stannis able to get and retain your attention?”

Sansa couldn’t help but blush as she tried to answer the question as best she could: “Well...Mr Bar-“

“-Renly please, we are nearly family, and I am sure we will be fast friends as well, especially with your impeccable taste in fashion and your gorgeous face.” He ended with a wink. “But enough about that... you were about to explain your taste in men... which might be a little questionable.”

However before Sansa could explain her taste in men, footsteps announced another entering the room. Looking round, Sansa couldn’t help but be glad by Mr Grumpy’s ever-so-special-to-her... _and maybe Renly_? – grumpy face.

“Ahh... the ever obedient Davos Seaworth.” Renly greeted the older man. “Did Stannis send you over to make sure we didn’t do anything _naughty_... or make sure that Alayne did not fall madly in love with me...?”

Mr Seaworth gave Renly and Sansa a curt nod, eyes going between the two: “Mr Baratheon... Miss Stone.”

After giving another questionable glance at Sansa, Mr seaworth turned his attention to Renly: “Stannis was wondering if Mr Willas Tyrell and his younger brother would be joining this evening?”

Renly rolled his eyes: “Stannis bloody well knows that _yes_ : both Willas and Loras will be there tonight.” Turning to Sansa he then added: “Speaking of which, Loras is going to _love_ you.”

 

After barely ten minutes, Stannis came into the room in a crisp dark suit, his cheeks a little rosy, as if he had just gone on a run.

 

 

. . . . . . . .

 

After a quite tense car ride, Renly trying to get information from Sansa, and Stannis shutting him down at every turn, they finally arrived at a beautiful white house surrounded by a small lake, apparently named ‘ _Summerhall_ ’.

 

A distinguished gentleman with silver hair and the most stunning purple eyes, in his late forties came to greet them at the door, pulling them into the foyer.

“Ah, there you are. We were wondering when you would show up.”

As his brother and Mr Seaworth followed close behind them, Stannis brought Sansa a little closer to him as he answered the greeting.

“Mr Targaryen. Thank you for inviting us.”

“Stannis, how many times must I repeat myself: it’s Rhaegar.” Rhaegar Targaryen stretched out his hand and shook Stannis’, as a beautiful, olive skinned woman entered the entrance and slipped her arm into Rhaegar’s other arm.

“May I introduce my wife; Elia. Elia, this is Stannis Baratheon, the man who can create the best contracts from nothing.”

Elia Targaryen smiled broadly and shook Stannis’ outstretched hand. “Such a pleasure to finally meet you.” Before, with a small gleam in the woman’s eye, she glanced between Stannis and Sansa.

“Likewise. It’s been quite significant to be able to finally bring an interesting deal and work with Targaryen Corp...Humm, I hope we haven’t taken too much of your husband time away from you. Hopefully with the holidays you will see much more of him.”

Elia nudged her husband in the ribs and rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me. With all the children back for the week, they are all going to drive me crazy spending so much time at home.”

Her husband returned the smile. “She’s only joking. In reality she hates when we are all away. She can’t wait to spend more time with the whole family. But enough about us...” Rhaegar ended the sentence his eyes resting on Sansa.

“Stannis, would you introduce us to your companion?”

Shifting a little, Stannis held her a little closer:

“My apologies. Rhaegar, Elia, this is Miss Alayne Stone.”

Sansa flashed the hosts a charming smile as more worry ran through her. But before she could speak or the hosts could ask or comment further, Stannis quickly moved the both of them to the side and added: “And of course, this is my brother Renly, and Mr Davos Seaworth.”

Sansa noticed Elia Targaryen’s lip twitch as she gave another quick look at Sansa and Stannis before she presented her charming smile on Stannis’ brother and Seaworth.

Rhaegar spoke first: “Ah yes, Davos welcome, Renly welcome... unfortunately Willas and Loras has yet to arrive.”

Followed by his wife: “Welcome gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to meet so many of Rhaegar’s business associates... now Arthur and him actually have a reason to talk shop whilst us women will hopefully talk of more pleasant things.”

Squeezing his wife side lovingly Rhaegar gave a small laugh: “Oh, don’t worry love, I’m sure we’ll all find something else to talk about tonight, even with so many businessmen around. But first, let us bring you all to the living room to meet our family.”

Sansa could have sworn his eyes slid to hers as he had said ‘ _something else’_ – making her even more nervous. The feeling of Stannis’ hold tightening only confirmed the apprehension.

 

After the final exchanges of handshakes and greetings, they started to make small talk as they moved to what Sansa assumed was the living room.

At there arrival, they were soon joined by three new people: a younger version of Rhaegar, who gave her a friendly smile, - _most likely Rhaegar Targaryen’s son_ -, a young version of Elia except for violet eyes that were identical to the first man – _his daughter_ – and a young man with pale blond hair and dark blue-purple eyes.

“May I present my son Aegon and my daughter Rhaenys and her husband Edric Dayne.”

The greetings ensued in a similar manner to when Sansa had been first introduced to the parents: both Targaryen children seemed cheery and teasing and had the same look in their eye that Elia had, when they had greeted Sansa. As for Edric Dayne, he was charming with the added feeling that there seemed to be a pleasant but silent countenance to him.

 

Soon two more people had joined the group, making Sansa feel like they were the main attraction of the evening.

Rhaegar Targaryen played host once more: “My sister Daenerys-”

“-Dany please, Daenerys makes me sound old.” The smiling woman chastised her brother.

Shaking Daenerys Targaryen’s hand, Sansa thought that there was definitely no risk of anyone considering the beautiful woman ‘ _old’_. She shared the same beautiful Targaryen features as her older brother, but she was probably at least ten years, if not fifteen years younger than Rhaegar Targaryen, more likely closer in age to her nephew than her brother.

“Let me introduce my husband: Khal Drogo.”

In great contrast to the petite sized Danerys, Sansa couldn’t help but feel impressed, and even intimidated by the huge man standing next to her. Even Ramsay and his --- would think twice before attacking someone so big. Yet, unlike her own husband, Sansa also noticed that Khal Drogo’s fierce black eyes shown with love and pride when he looked at his wife.

 

A man who resembled Elia Targaryen also soon came forward with the most enlivened grin on his face; it was impossible to assume they were anything else but siblings. He murmured something in his sister’s ear as his eyes shinned whilst they roamed between Sansa and Stannis.

“And this is-“

The man step foward, interrupting his good-brother: “-I am Overyn Martell, the more handsome of Elia’s brothers. And you, Miss Alayne Stone, are even lovelier than I expected. Evidently I need to schedule a longer sojourn in Kings Landing, if it has women as beautiful as you staying here.”

He held out his hand, so, blinking quickly, Sansa offered hers. However, instead of merely shaking her hand, he turned her hand to place a starling kiss on the pulse point of her wrist, glancing up with his penetrating dark eyes. “It is a pleasure.”

Blushing furiously, Sansa tried to smile back: “Very nice to meet you, Mr Martell.”

Unfortunately Stannis didn’t seem to agree with her, and made a jerk movement next to her, gripping her more tightly, causing Mr Martell to release her hand before giving his attention to Stannis.

Grinning, he extended his hand to Stannis: “Stannis, it is wonderful that you were able to come, and with such an agreeable companion. I must commend you: I am pretty certain I have never seen such a captivating woman in the arms of a Baratheon before... One can’t help but wonder what talents you have kept hidden from the rest of us.” He spoke as his gaze roamed down Stannis and his hand still clutching in Stannis’. Clearly it was now Stannis’ turn to being scrutinised from head to toe by the Dornishman, and clearly Stannis did not appreciate the inspection as much as she had, as he quickly dropped Oberyn’s hand, whilst his posture stiffened next to Sansa.

Laughing, Elia spoke: “I should have warned you: Oberyn is nothing but a rake... though I don’t know who I should be more worried for Miss Alayne or for you Stannis.”

“As long as he doesn’t invite the both of you to our little island near Lemonwood, I’m sure you both will be perfectly safe.” Another olive-skinned woman added, sliding her left arm into Oberyn Martell’s, as she presented her right hand to Sansa and Stannis.

“I’m Ellaria Sand, I’m here to keep Oberyn in check and make sure he does not scare Elia’s guests.”

Oberyn Martell rolled his eyes at his lover: “I merely introduced myself, and made an innocent inquiry.”

Slapping him on the chest, Ellaria half-grinned half-whispered sensually:“There is nothing innocent about you Oberyn” making Sansa feel a little awkward and wondering if the two were going to join them for dinner or go enjoy a totally different type of meal somewhere else.

 

Thankfully the feeling of discomfort was soon broken when Sansa was introduced to Elia Targaryen’s older brother, Doran Martell. Unlike his –much younger- siblings, he seemed more serious a certain solemnity to him – making her think of her own father’s sombre personality.

She was then introduced to Arthur and Ashara Dayne. As Sansa was shaking the dark haired beauty’s hand, she failed to notice that another couple had entered the living room: a young dark haired man and a red-haired woman.

She only turned to the sound of Rahegar’s voice calling her attention: “Ahh... and this is my son from my second wife, Jon, and his fiancée, Ygritte Spear.”

 

Sansa felt her heart skip a beat when her eyes met grey ones... the exact colour of her father’s eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *How in Westeros = Game of thrones version of ‘How on Earth?’


	27. Chapter 26 - ... just a dinner amongst friends and family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter taking ages to finish, so decided to cut it in two and at least publish the first part. Not 100% happy with in but it’s just frustrating me more and more, and now I’m just worried I’m actually making it worse. I apologise for any mistakes and I hope it is good enough for my readers :)

 

 

As the evening had progressed and Stannis had met and had consequently introduced Alayne to many individuals, several key thoughts had gone through his irritated mind.

The first was to make sure Renly was not left alone with Alayne – i.e.: send Davos to make sure his brother was unable to ask Alayne about her relationship with him whilst Stannis took the most hurried shower known to man and nearly tore his clean shirt by putting it on with such rapidity. The thought soon evolved to ‘ _keep Renly as far from Alayne as possible’_ in the car, when Renly continually asked both Alayne and Stannis about the two of them. Stannis was tempted to go so far as to create a _3-meter-invisible-boundary_ between Alayne and his brother by the time they had reached Summerhall Manor.

The second thought was Stannis being reminded that, to those interested in men, the Targaryens had _very agreeable_ features. He also couldn’t forget Robert’s constant berating over the years that Targaryen men did not care if women – or even themselves – were already in relationships to possibly seduce them. It did not help that Rhaegar’s son, Aegon, was single and looked a little too long at Alayne for Stannis’ liking, as they were introduced to the younger dragons.

The third thought was: _keep Alayne away from Oberyn Martell and do NOT let him touch her ever again... actually best instate the 3-meter-invisible-boundary-line around Alayne for Oberyn Martell as well_.

This was quickly followed by Stannis trying to ignore all possible questionable glances the younger Dornishman was throwing _his_ way in addition to those directed at Alayne.

 

Of course all these thoughts shifted somewhat when Stannis felt Alayne tense when Rhaegar introduced her to Jon and his fiancée.

 

In the week they had spent together, Alayne was always closed off, not only to him but to everyone; which was one of the reasons why, up until this point in the evening, Stannis had been concerned with how others would react and interact with Alayne, rather than the other way round. Even though they had known each other only a short amount of time, Stannis had spent so much of it with Alayne – or thinking about her and studying her - that he was able to read her like he wouldn’t be able with any other woman; which is why he knew something was definitely _off_.

Unable to do anything else, Stannis tried to give her a reassuring stroke of his hand on her lower back, whilst trying to give some attention to the latest guest in front of them.

It was only when they had finally finished with greeting everyone, and that there was a little less of an attraction to the two of them, that Stannis momentarily pulled her to the side and gave her another comforting touch, this time his hand on her arm, as he turned his back to the rest of the room and faced her, looking straight into her eyes and asked softly:

“Is everything alright?”

 

As previously stated, in the week they had had together, Stannis had learnt to read Alayne. He had learnt to read her so well that he knew when she was genuinely happy or sad or angry -going on pissed off -, or when she was truly smiling.

This was why he was able to recognise that for the first time ever, she gave _him_ her signature fake smile.

“Of course, I’m great; just a little nervous.”

 

 

**. . . . . . . . .**

 

 

As she stared into grey eyes that had once been so familiar on an unfamiliar face, Sansa was reminded of memories from her childhood that had long been forgotten. - Her father telling them about a cousin they had never met; the son of a sister he very rarely talked about, verging on never. How the boy was apparently having difficulties in the different schools he had attended in the South, so he would be joining Robb at Winterfell Academy. Then there was the recollection of Robb coming home for winter and summer breaks not shutting up about their cousin ‘ _Jon’_. And then another of Arya and her going with dad to White Harbour, whilst Robb planned to the Wall with _Jon_ to visit their Uncle Benjen...

_Before Dad had died and everything had changed..._

 

Stannis’ low tone of voice broke the thought and memories: “Jon – it’s nice to see you again...”

At the comment, Sansa re-focused on the present. - _Stannis knows Jon_?

“... and this is Alayne Stone.”

At the introduction, Jon Targaryen’s stare shifted from Stannis to her.

Sansa tried to calm her heart as she forced smile and stuttered, as she lifted her hand to his: “N-nice to meet you Mr. Targaryen.” – _Will he recognise me?... does he know who I am?_

After the briefest of pauses in which his grey eyes looked straight into her bleu ones, Sansa noticed a flash of something – _recognition_? – shine in his before he gaze seemed to quickly scan the rest of her face and even flick to her hair momentarily.

“Alayne...” the name was said with uncertainty, as if he was testing it out, before he seemed to recover himself clearing his throat: “Welcome Miss Stone.”

Unfortunately, after another glance at her hair, he looked straight into her eyes as he gave Sansa a tight smile, and added: “Alayne is quite a curious name”, as he finally let go of her hand.

Her ears buzzed as dread rang through Sansa as her fears were confirmed. - _He recognises me_.

 

It was only later, when Stannis pulled her aside, and asked her if she was alright, that Sansa the drone in her brain was lessened somewhat.

 

“Is everything alright?”

_No, I am definitely not alright..._

On the outside she knew she had to be Alayne - Alayne Stone, the woman Stannis had spent a week with - but on the inside she was Sansa - Sansa Stark, still the lost girl she had been at eighteen - and she felt like she was drowning in a life she had been running from the last four years, from the half lies she had created...

Trying to gain come sense of things, Sansa looked up at the man she had been lying to for the last week and gave him a subdued smile that did not reach her eyes.

“Of course, I’m great; just a little nervous.” ... _mainly_ _by the fact that I have been lying to you for the last week, that I’m lying to all these people right now, and you will probably hate me when you learn the truth_...

 

. . . . .

 

When everyone had headed to the dining room for the meal, Stannis had tried to make it so that Sansa was sitting between Seaworth and himself; like two unofficial bodyguards. Unfortunately for him, the hostess Elia Targaryen placed Willas Tyrell on her other side.

As the first course was served and everyone started eating, most of the guests seemed on good spirits, starting with the idle chit-chat with the partners that had been placed on either side of them. However, this could not be said of her date or herself. She could constantly feel Stannis’ eyes roam to the side and cast the occasional glance to her, the looks varied between possessiveness, worry, intrigue. When he wasn’t eating, he rested his hand over her own on the table; the act a mix of protectiveness, and possessiveness.

 

He wasn’t the only one studying her: both Seaworth and her long-elusive-cousin seemed to be taking her measure. Even the rest of the table would cast her the occasional quizzical look over their glasses of white wine and crab cakes.

 

Her table partner Willas Tyrell broke her from her agitated mind: “Miss Stone, from the little you have spoken, you accent doesn’t seem to be from the Crownlands; may I inquire where it is from?”

Sansa sensed Stannis stiffen on her left, his hand tighten the slightest amount around her own, before he barely turned his body towards her, clearly interested in the answer she would give. However, before she could respond, it seemed that Stannis was not the only one interested in what she might say, as from across the table, Oberyn Martell, gaze fixed on her, added:

“Yes, Miss Alayne, you must tell us where your accent is from: I am usually very good with tongues but I can’t seem to place yours?”

Both men on either side of her, plus the youngest Targaryen and Seaworth, already had their full attention on her, but at the statement Sansa felt the rest of the table gazes’ converge on her.

 

_So this is what being in the hot-seat feels like..._

 

With a small smile, she replied: “Ohhh... I’m more of a nomad; don’t like to stay in one place too long, it’s a mix of many places.”

Willas Tyrell continued from his first inquiry: “But Stannis and you met in King’s Landing, right? What brought you here?”

“I like the city. I’m keeping my eye out for new opportunities here.” _Not a lie... although the plan is to actually leave Kings Landing very soon._..

“And what opportunities did you find _here_?” – This time the question seemed far less innocent than the previous ones, especially coming from Jon Targaryen, who was looking at her shrewdly.

Swallowing Sansa replied: “I’m about to finish college.”

She seemed to be the only topic of the table now, as Rhaegar Targaryen joined in: “Oh. Where do you go?”

Feeling even more nervous, Sansa replied, looking down at her place: “It’s a small school... Nothing like King’s University.”

Ygritte Spear shimmed in: “Haha, don’t worry Alayne, I know exactly how you feel – not everyone can afford King’s University like these guys.” She finished with a friendly wink.

Her fiancée added a little hotly: “There are a few top schools in the North that are more than affordable, to _everyone_. Surely one of those could have interested you and your nomadic life-style?”

Rhaenys Targaryen chastised her brother: “Not everyone is as fan of the cold as you, Jon,” before she turned to Sansa: “What’s your major?”

“Business. Economics major, finance minor.”

At the reply, Sansa felt Stannis raised his brows, sipping his drink, glass in his left hand, as his right still covered hers.

_Need to stop talking! Too much information is flowing from me_! _Feel like a Lannister flinging away coins_...

 

Rhaenys Targaryen, on the other hand, looked impressed: “Another business enthusiast. Is that how you met Stannis?”

Too nervous, without thinking, Sansa corrected her: “We met through his older brother actually...”

At the response, Renly straightened himself with further curiosity: “Oh really?... Robert never mentioned this? – _I_ was never told of this.” – His gaze going between Sansa and Stannis.

Realising her mistake, Sansa blushed as she tried to deflect once more: “ _I-indirectly_... the whole thing was a... combination of a mix-up and a misunderstanding.”

Stannis, seeming to finally decide come to her aid, cleared his throat roughly: “Yes... Robert thought to play a... _small_ joke... but blundered once more.”

“A happy blunder though?” Elia Targaryen commented with a smile.

With his own tight smile, Stannis replied: “Yes. In more ways than one: Alayne was in fact the one to first come up with the idea of including Dorne‘s Solar Energy Resources in the Highgarden Contract.”

Oberyn Martell grinned at her: “Beauty and brains... I knew there were more layers to you, Miss Alayne... so many layers to _unravel_...”

Doran Martell, obviously trying to divert from his brother’s insinuations, put the conversation back on safer grounds: “Have you been to Dorne?”

“Yes, a few months back I stayed not far from Sunspear.” – _In Plank Town, not thirty minutes away, but there is no reason for Stannis or Seaworth to know about that_...

“Did you spend any time in Sunspear?”

“Unfortunately I barely spent any time in the Dornish capital, as I had more pressing matters to attend to.” – _Hiding from my husband, contacting Arya, cleaning rich people’s flats, going to night-college_...

The younger Martell joined in once more: “We would be happy to invite you – and Stannis - to Sunspear very soon for to show you _all_ the city has to offer.”

His lover chastised him from across the room: “Oberyn please...”

“I was just inviting them for a visit.”

“It’s never just a _visit_ with you.”

 

Deflecting the conversation once more, Elia Targaryen spoke: “I apologise for my brother, Alayne. Do you have any siblings? I, for one, would love to know about your family.”

Over the rim of his glass, Sansa heard Jon Targaryen murmur: “Yes, _Alayne_ , tell us all about them.”

Feeling Stannis’ gaze on her intensify, and his thumb softly brush the top of her hand, he clearly agreed with the comment.

 

_Seven Hells... I swear the room getting warmer... Can’t we open a few windows or something?_...

 

Clearing her throat, Sansa replied as vaguely as possible: “Oh... there isn’t much to say... My parents died when I was still a child and now I am by myself.”

“Surely you must have some family left?” - To the rest of the table the sentence might seem like an innocent question, but to Sansa, the words coming from Jon Targaryen’s mouth seemed more like an accusation.

Throat tightening further, Sansa replied: “I might have distant relations somewhere [- _right across the table_ -] but I had never met them before. I never thought to contact them after my parents died... and then life went on.”

Unfortunately her cousin seemed to not be finished with her: “It seems a shame to not want to revive any link with the small amount of family you _do_ have left.”

Before Sansa could answer, Rhaegar Targaryen gave his son a glare before interjecting: “Jon has always been a fervent advocate to a close family. With the whole history with my second wife, I have always had a complicated relationship with the Stark family. It is understandable though that Jon is quite taken with his northern heritage, to the point in which he is trying to find any link to his mother’s side.”

Aegon Targaryen, looking at his half-brother with a bit of worry, added: “It is a tragedy what happened to the Stark family... Jon actually only has one cousin left, isn’t that right Jon?”

Sansa felt his eyes on her as Jon replied: “Yes, just _one_. I would love to get to know my mother’s side of the family more and have tried several times to get in touch with my cousin but to no avail, she seems to have just _vanished_.”

 

Sansa’s mind had started to buzz more and more that she wasn’t sure who spoke next: “ _Vanished_?”

Jon’s voice seemed far away as she heard him reply:

“Yes – _vanished_. When my uncle died, both my cousin Robb and I were stuck in the wilderness, and didn’t hear about it for several weeks. By the time the news reached us, Dad had also sent word about Viserys’ mental condition, so Robb went back to his home, whilst I joined our family in Vaes Dothrak.

*It was only when we returned from Essos, after Dany’s marriage to Drogo, that I heard of the many tragedies that had followed the rest of my mother’s family, and that I had only one cousin left who had apparently just married. By the time I was able to reach Winterfell, I had apparently just missed her, as she had just started a travel-tour of Essos. Since then, both her husband and the family lawyer have had trouble in locating her [...]”

As Jon continued to speak, his words barely registering in the back of her mind, Sansa remembered the letter* she had received from her long-lost cousin: giving her his condolences for not only Robb’s death but her parents’ as well as for the disappearance of her younger siblings, and explaining that he had only just heard of her troubles because of an unexpected family matter in Essos and subsequent developments. In the letter, he had also stated that he was planning a trip to the North very soon and had expressed his eagerness to hopefully meet his cousin.

Of course the whole communication was hindered on the fact that she had received the letter only days before the ‘Ramsay Fiasco’ and, in such, she had never replied...

 

Rhaegar Targaryen’s voice brought her back to the present: “...Well if she is anything like her aunt, or at least as headstrong and determined as her aunt, Jon has his work cut out for him in finding her.”

His wife then said even more cheerily: “Stark women are definitely a force to be reckoned with: Rhaegar could barely keep up with her... it was good to see his perfect demeanour a little frazzled for once and that someone could keep him on his toes.”

Renly added jokingly: “Well Lyanna Stark definitely seemed to have some sense about her if she knew she could do better than my older brother.”

Jon looked at Renly, his tone a little apologetic: “That’s right, I forgot that my mother had once been engaged to your older brother.”

Renly only shrugged, and jested some more: “Yes, a long time ago, but thankfully everything is as it should be. Robert is definitely not cut out of married life, even if the great big oaf is still delusional when it comes to Lyanna Stark.”

 

As Stannis chastised his brother with a scowl, Sansa heard Jon say in a lower tone, eyeing her: “Stark women seem to be a curse to Baratheon men...”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *As stated somewhat earlier in the story (and a little amended), for this story, I'm just going to assume/say that modern Westeros is closer to what it was in the 1980's-90's than to what it is now. – So technology, before and when Sansa was 18 and ran away was less developed/less wide spread, and there was a lot more letters usage than that of computers/emails.
> 
> Also the communication between the North and the rest of Westeros was never great, and neither was the communication between Westeros and the different parts of Essos.
> 
> Sorry if all this seems a little farfetched, and I hope you don’t hold it against me :)


	28. Chapter 27 - ... just pleasant chitchat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arrggghhh... the more I write the longer it’s all getting: part 2 of the evening.. but it’s not over yet. I hope you guys enjoy this second part, and sorry for the ‘abrupt end’ though hopefully it will ‘wet your appetite’ further... ;)

 

 

The interrogation had continued through most of the meal, until all had been consumed and Elia Targaryen suggested that dessert would be enjoyed less formally in the living room, to facilitate socialising with those who had been further away at the table.

Sansa welcomed the reprieve: it gave her the perfect excuse to quickly go to the bathroom and ‘freshen up’; – or more exactly sort her frantic mind and calm her beating heart.

 

After taking a sizable amount of water in her hands and drowning her face in it, she took one of the small towels on the side of the marble counter and rinsed the drudgery and tension from her features. Unfortunately, it also erased most of the artwork that Ros had created on her face earlier.

After the thorough cleanse, Sansa studied her face in the mirror.

This was the Sansa from a week ago, so different to the girl that had first ran out of Ramsay and her house, but still so much unlike the woman she had been in the last week. Of course there were the noticeable differences between the ‘old’ Sansa from four years ago and Sansa now. For one, her hair had gone darker, which could easily be explained by the several times she had dyed it through the four years of running. She was also definitely thinner - _being on the lamb does_ _that_ – even though certain parts of her definitely seemed ‘more developed’; _fuller_.

But that was the Sansa before last Monday, before walking into King’s Gate Hotel for the first time, before she ever met Stannis Baratheon and everything else that had followed...

She had put on some weight back and there was some colour on her skin in the last week, from eating more healthily, sleeping more soundly. Looking more closely she noticed the few tiny freckles that had also appeared recently on the bridge of her nose. Her gaze then moved lower: her lips were certainly puffier lips – most likely due to Stannis’ constant _attentions_. She looked even further, and moved the collar of her dress slightly to the side: the burgundy mark where her neck met her shoulder that Stannis constantly refreshed was definitely still visible.

And those were only the ‘physical manifestations’ of how the last week had affected her. Sansa didn’t even want to start enumerating the other ways her safely built life had changed in the last week.

And now the risk of her crumbling down further was greater than ever...

...bringing out the paler and nervousness of a week ago.

Sighing, she quickly put on a bit of makeup, and squared her shoulders to face the outside world once more.

 

And how soon the outside world came calling...

She had barely closed the door of the bathroom when a calm subdued voice came out from right behind her:

“Sansa.”

She automatically turned after hearing her name for the first time in four years. As her Tully-blue eyes met Stark-grey ones, Sansa couldn’t help be see the certain sense of irony in it: the man in front of her looked more Stark than she ever would, and it was probably the fact that she did not look one thing like her father that had kept her from Ramsay for so long, and that Stannis had not been able to find out who she was.*

 

There was no indication of triumphant or satisfaction on Jon Targaryen’s face. Rather, it was full of grim, more forbidding features that made Sansa think of her first meeting with Stannis; before she chastised herself on her momentary distraction instead of focusing on the man right in front of her.

 

“How does the line go again? ... _’Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine_ ’... Well of all the infinite possibilities of the day, the one that never crossed my mind was that you would be standing right in front of me this evening ... in the arm of Stannis Baratheon no less.”

Sansa was about to reply but Jon lifted his hand as indication for her not to speak:

“No, I do not want to hear anything now. This is neither the time nor the place. I don’t want to know your reasons for being here tonight with Stannis. I don’t want to ruin Elia’s party or ruin a good business deal for dad or for Stannis, a man I respect (- _the undercurrent statement being: ‘unlike you_ ’ -). I just hope you aren’t toying with him...”

Looking from her to his pocket, he took his business card out and wrote something on the back of it., before continuing:

“...I think it’s time we had a little family chat... _cous’_. I understand from Renly, that you are staying with Stannis at the King’s Gate Hotel, yes? ... How about we tomorrow afternoon, whilst Stannis is at work, at –“

“-No! I can’t...” Sansa replied in worry.

Not only there was the possibility that Stannis would probably have someone following her, but there was still the other prospect of Damon still wondering around Kings Landing. As Jon’s scowl deepened, Sansa thought fast and re-iterated:

“What I mean is: why don’t you come to the penthouse?... You know Stannis and Mr Seaworth... I sure they won’t mind if you made a house-call tomorrow afternoon... We could have tea on the outer terrace... whilst we have our... _chat_... And you could probably even stay for dinner, once Stannis comes home.” - _Mom always said ‘courtesy is a lady’s armour’_...

Jon looked at her a little confused, his eyes narrowing as if trying to find any level of trickery on her part.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he gave a small nod, and still gave her his card. “I wrote my cell on the back, incase you want to contact me before hand... I’ll pass by sometime in the afternoon and call on ‘ _Miss Alayne Stone_ ’.”

The last words said with such distain it made Sansa flinch as she took the card.

After another curt nod, Jon started to turn to head back to the living room, before his eyes met her once more: “By the way... does Stannis know that you are _still_ married?”

 

 

**. . . . . . . . .**

 

 

 

“She is gorgeous by the way, how in all of the gods did you pull that off?” Renly asked with a grin as he eyed his older brother.

“You didn’t have to sacrifice one of your brothers to some shadow God to get her, did you?... looking at her and looking at you, anything less doesn’t seem like it would have been enough... Let’s just hope you sacrificed Robert and not me... the world is still in need of my gorgeousness...” He finished with a humorous sigh.

 

But Stannis was barely paying attention to his brother, and only gave a short grunt as a response to his brother’s foolish words.

The rest of him – most of him – was focused on the woman who had been his focal point for the last week: _Alayne_. From where he was he could clearly see her talking with Jon Targaryen in the outer corridor, in the semi-darkness, just off the living room space. He only had the back of Jon’s head, so had no idea as to what the man was saying, but Alayne’s features showed that of... _recognition_. From the way they were talking, and standing close to one another, it wouldn’t make one believe that they had just met.

This didn’t help the few strange occurrences that had happened since she had been introduced to Jon earlier.

Most of the guests of the evening were clearly fascinated in Alayne and her relationship with Stannis; however Stannis had noticed that Jon’s interest seemed distinct from the rest, in the way he looked at her. Even the way he spoke to her during dinner seemed closer to an interrogation rather than just conversation. Plus, he couldn’t really forget the image of Alayne paling and tensing next to him when first meeting the second Targaryen son and how all her later interactions with the man had seemed _off_.

 

As he looked back at the two, he noticed _worry_ in her expression... and something else he couldn’t quite place - _hurt_? – just before Jon gave her a note of some sort.

At the whole interaction and Alayne taking the note, Stannis frowned further, before a thought that had been swimming in the back of his mind solidified: _What if Jon was the father of her child?_...

The meeting of the two didn’t seem like the most pleasant of reunions, and Alayne seemed a little more skittish than usual... at least more than one would normally be from meeting new people... And her nervousness _did_ seem to grow around the dark haired man...

... _And then there is the other thing that reinforces the hypothesis_ , Stannis thought as his eyes momentarily went to another woman in of the room: Ygritte Spear. If his fiancée was anything to go by Jon clearly had a thing for red-heads.

From there Stannis wondered if Jon was the reason why Alayne was so closed off: _had he been the man to break her trust and, in return, she had run from him, taking their child with her_?

Jon had worked for him for a little over a year, in finishing his masters in International Buisness. The man was still young, but he was diligent, a hard-worker, more serious than others his age. Jon had definitely been one of Dragonstone’s best interning business students. But there had also been a mournfulness to the man that Stannis had always associated to the strangeness of his family dynamic... But what if it was the regret of what he had done to Alayne, losing her and his son in the process?...

 

His thoughts continued as he watched Jon return to the room and join his half-brother’s conversation with Willas Tyrell and Arthur Dayne, whilst Alayne moved to the large bay windows, and went outside. - _Always hiding,_ _always escaping_...

 

 

 

**. . . . . . . . . .**

 

 

 

Sansa didn’t deign give Jon a reply and had just mumbled something about speaking more tomorrow, before moving through the living room, without giving a glance at the buffet of desserts or the coffee pots, and going through the bay windows which opened onto a terrace.

She hesitated just out on the tread of the doors, before crossing to the iron cast balustrade. Uttering a barely audible sigh, her hands gripped the cold metal. She closed her eyes, bringing her face upwards to the sky as the night breeze helped calm her down once more.

 

She needed to _leave_.

The more she stayed with these people, the more she would want to burst...

The more she was near Jon, the more his presence would remind her of the simple fact that, as of right now, she was a married woman and she had been lying to everyone...

The more she felt Stannis’ presence near her and the more she was reminded that although all of what they shared had been real for her, she had been hiding from him... hiding so much, so much that she still had to hide...

 

The sound of one of the doors opening announced someone else’s presence.

 

Sansa slowly turned to meet the purple eyes of Rhaenys Targayren-Dayne. The older woman moved to stand next to Sansa, and after a pause, gave her a reassuring squeeze of the hand.

“I want to apologise for overwhelming you all evening. We can be quite intrusive sometimes - some more than others – in wanting to know everything about ‘new distractions’... Being with Stannis Baratheon, I assume you rather enjoy a more quite life with less attention.”

“Stannis”: murmured Sansa with a faraway look. – If someone shouldn’t know her thoughts right now it was Stannis...

 

The woman blushed and shifted awkwardly, misunderstanding Sansa’s expression:

“I-I didn’t mean it in a way for you to give me more about your relationship... I meant it the sense that I know the feeling of feeling scrutinised by others:... Edric and I... We hid... we had to hide our relationship for the first few months before telling our parents... especially since Dad and Uncle Arthur are best friends. When they did find out, it was a complicated few weeks, to say the least... I know all about the family and friend interrogations that follow two people getting together”, the statement finishing with a soft smile, also looking in the distance, clearly remembering those first months with a sense of nostalgia.

Her eyes went to Sansa once more as she added tenderly: “... You truly care for him don’t you?”

Sansa smiled gently, her gaze still faraway, but made no reply. – _Yes, I do care for him, so much so that it’s a problem... but all will change when he finds out who I am... He will hate me when he finds what I am: a liar, an adulterer, a murderer..._

 

 

**. . . . . . . .**

 

 

Unnoticed to the two women, Stannis stood at the edge of the terrace. The silence continued as he moved further outside.

It seemed that Alayne would not answer the question.

 

Approaching the two women, he made his presence known: “Alayne... Mrs Dayne...”

Stannis felt a pang run through him as he noticed Alayne shift uncomfortably at his appearance. On the other hand, Rhaenys Dayne gave him a welcoming smile.

“Stannis... please, call me Rhaenys. Although from what my father has been saying, I think it will take a few more times before you actually do.”

Stannis gave the young woman a curt smile at her light teasing, before his eyes shifted to Alayne once more. Unfortunately she merely continued to stand quietly next to the balustrade.

 

Noticing the his focus, Rhaenys Dayne added: "Isn't it marvellous that Alayne is so well travelled?...”

The question reminded Stannis of the several locations Alayne had mentioned she had been as the dinner had continued: near Sunspear, near Oldtown and Highgarden, the Neck... each time giving the general location but never going into specifics... Or why she had truly been in that part of Westeros. Not that that would stop Davos from snooping into every possible crevice of each of the regions.

“... Dorne, the Reach, even part of the North... I must say I do not know many people who have been to the North... well except for Jon and Ygritte."

It was subtle, but since Stannis had been watching Alayne intently, he noticed the small flinch at the mention of Rhaenys Targayren-Dayne’s half brother, and couldn’t help but make a comment: “What a delightful surprise it must have been for you, Alayne, meeting another who had been further up than the Twins."

Alayne looked up at him quickly, but made no reply. On the other hand Mrs Dayne beamed: "Yes indeed, _I_ am quite jealous, and I know Dad is as well. Even he never went North when Lyanna was alive..."

 

Possibly noticing the awkward atmosphere going on between Alayne and him, Rhaenys Dayne quickly then added: “...Well, if there is nothing more, I’ll leave you two...”

“Thank you.” Stannis replied in a tone far more abrupt than the words suggested.

 

Stannis paid little mind to the older woman’s footsteps moving back inside or the sound of the bay windows closing behind her. Their only true significance to him was that Alayne and him were finally alone. For a few moments there was a constrained silence as he stood, observing Alayne closely, before he couldn’t stop himself from moving nearer.

Whether because of him or the sudden gust of wind, Stannis noticed her shiver.

“Is there anything I can get you?...”

  

**. . . . . . . .**

  

 _As attentive as ever_...

 

Sansa looked up at him, forcing a smile: “Nothing, thank you. You can go back to the business talk and men-chatter; I am really perfectly all right. Just needed a bit of fresh air... it was getting stuffy inside.”

“I’ll stay with you. I’ve gotten use to your evening strolls on _our_ balcony... I should have expected no less from you here.”

“But I’d rather be alone.” Unable to stop her voice from sounding a tiny bit like a petulant child’s.

 

There was a pause, before Stannis spoke again moving even closer: “Are you sure you don’t need your wrap?... or would you like my jacket?”

Thinking of the danger of Stannis’ covering her in his jacket and his smell surrounding her further, Sansa forced another smile and reinforced her earlier answer, as she turned back to watch the garden and lake in front of them: “I’m fine, the cold doesn’t affect me.” – _Not this southern version cold at least_...

 

As the silence set, Sansa could still feel Stannis’ presence next to her, his eyes on her. Her mind still frantic from the many interludes of the evening, she couldn’t help but turn once more to him.

His face tense yet curiously expressionless.

Sansa frowned; something was wrong. Stannis was use to her being off in her thoughts, being distant... If he was frustrated by her half-answer or her silence, his face and stance would be different; more curious, intrigued... this was something else.

“Is everything alright?”

Stannis shifted, breaking eye contact: “Of course.”

He had just lied to her... _why_?

“Are you sure... you seem a little off...”

“I do?”

“Yes – what is it?”

“Well...” Stannis began and then stopped. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

 

He started to move away, but Sansa placed her hands on his shoulders, stopping him.

“Stannis, please –“she began, but he took her hands from his shoulders.

She insisted, repeating herself: “Stannis”. – She was the one to hide from him damn it, not the other way round!

 

Putting his hands behind his back, Stannis stared into her eyes:

“Do you think me a complete fool?... Do you think I didn’t notice Jon and you earlier... even slipping a note in your hand earlier?”

There was a momentary pause before Sansa’s eyes widened: “You can’t think that-“

He interrupted her fiercely; his eyes went cold with anger and hurt as he looked at her:

“Why did you go and ‘ _freshen up’_ earlier?- Your makeup was perfect... you still look perfect... And why did you come out here?... You wanted to be alone. Alone to read your precious note, think of your precious Targaryen without any interruptions... You couldn’t even wait for the evening to end. You were – you are – mad with impatience because you couldn’t get rid of us. First Rhaenys Dayne, then me.”

Sansa blinked: “Stannis, you’re nuts. This is absurd. You can’t think... Mr Targaryen and I-“

His eyes fixed on hers, Stannis interrupted her once more. “-Mr Targaryen, really... not ‘ _Jon_ ’?... What did you two discuss earlier? It seemed quite interesting from where I was standing...”

“N-nothing. Nothing at all. We just talked of the Wall and his work at Castle Black Industries...” -

“Fine... Show me the note.”

“I-I can’t. I destroyed it... threw it away, o-over the balcony.” – _Definitely can’t show him the business card with Jon’s personal number and address added in pen on the back_...

 

A frigid smile appeared and then quickly disappeared on Stannis’s lips.

“No you didn’t. Show it to me.”

Sansa stayed silent, for a moment. Her eyes pleading: “Stannis, pl-“

“-I could take it by force” he muttered through clenched teeth, as he advanced a step towards her. “I have half a mind-“

Sansa backed away with a faint cry, her eyes still on Stannis’s face.

He turned away from her.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. But, by the Gods Old and New, I will call out Jon.” – _No! He definitely can’t talk to Jon! Not before I had a proper chance to!_

Sansa grabbed his arm in alarm “No, Stannis you mustn’t, I beg you please... don’t-“

Stannis sneered: “Afraid for your lover?”

Sansa blinked once more: “He’s not my lover.”

“I was being polite – I meant _client_ ”, then he mussed, looking at her face. - “Or perhaps he isn’t – _yet_.”

“Stannis please there is nothing going on-”

“-Then prove it: show me the note.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Tullys: not really a prominent/known family in my story.


	29. Chapter 28 - ... just the end to a lovely evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Part of the Dinner at the Targaryen house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok (before I forget for the 3rd time): here is the song I linked with Stannis on his thoughts with Sansa during the dinner (-doesn’t fit ‘perfectly’ but feel its gets the whole thing of him being ‘mesmerised’ by her’ and she is ‘his’, and all the other people are some-what faded in the background):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hy0pZ_JvL4k  
> 

 

 _Shut up! shut up! shut up!!! WHY ARE YOU STILL TALKING?_!?!!

 

Part of Stannis’ mind was yelling at him for being an over-bearing ass, whilst the other part – _the really, really stupid part_ \- continued to censure Alayne with more stupid jealous questions.

He wanted to demand an explanation from her: for why she was refusing to give him anything about herself for the last week, for her strange mood tonight but, more importantly at that precise moment, for why she would not show him that _note_. – Stannis was sure that there must be something on it that he would not like, and her refusal confirmed it further.

 

“He’s _not_ my lover.”

“I was being polite – I meant _client_...”

But as her eyes showed that she was telling the truth, Stannis mused: “... Or perhaps he isn’t – _yet_.”

“Stannis please there is nothing going on-”

“-Then prove it: show me the note.”

 

Alayne stepped back as if she had been slapped, before she fiercely retorted:

“He is _not_ my lover, nor will he ever _be_ my _lover_... and I think we were skimming, just before dinner, over the fact that _you_ have been my _only_ _client_. I have never lied to you Stannis... well except for saying that I destroyed that note (and the fact that I use an alias), but you caught on easily enough to both, which proves that you _know_ when I am _lying_... I _never_ lie, Stannis; I have never lied to you, not where it _truly matters_.”

 

Stannis fisted his hands by his side, as frustrated as ever with this temptress in front of him. He wanted to believe her, trust her, but she was still giving him _nothing_ , only half-words and promises. Staring straight at her, his eyes piercing into her own, he spoke once more:

“ _Fine_. You might not be lying to me but you still keep so much of yourself from me... and don’t even try to deny that there isn’t something between you and Jon – I have _eyes_ , I can _see_ what is as plain as day.”

“ _Fine_ : _yes_ , there is something between Jon and me, but _nothing_ of what you are imagining in that cave-man brain of yours. And I will have you know that tonight is the first night I ever _met_ Jon.”

Stannis wanted to call her out, but Alayne was right: he could clearly see if she was lying to him and here, at this very moment, she wasn’t.

So instead he stared at her in silence, not knowing what to say. If anything, _she_ should be the one to say something: she was the one constantly keeping everything from _him_.

As if agreeing with his thoughts, Alayne added, more softly: “... I just need you to tru-“

 

\- Unfortunately, hearing voices drawing closer stopped Alayne from speaking any further.

Making an effort to control himself and his emotions, Stannis moved a few steps away from Alayne and her intoxicating presence.

 

As the doors to the balcony-terrace opened, and the voices grew louder Alayne moved back to watch the scenery presented in front of them; most likely not for the appreciation of the landscape but to cool her own agitation. – He could note that her face was still quite white, that her hands clasped to the terrace balustrade with tension.

 

Mrs Elia Targeryen entered, followed directly by her husband.

Eyes still momentarily fixed on her, Stannis watched as Alayne forced a smile as she turned to the two arrivals as they approached.

 

Rhaegar Tragaryen was the first to speak, a smile on his face, seeming to not note any of the tension that was still lingering near Stannis and Alayne: “There you two are, we were wondering if you had slipped out when no one was looking”, giving Stannis a friendly wink.

Stannis forced a tight non- scowl- smile as he explained: “No, no... We just needed a bit of fresh air.”

Mrs Targaryen actually looked a little embarrassed as she apologised: “Yes, I really need to apologise for the not so subtle interrogation some of my guests – even my _own_ family – created for the both of you. I feel so ashamed” her head going back and forth in displeasure.

Stannis tried to calm her: “You shouldn’t concern yourself Mrs Targaryen, it is nothing we couldn’t handle. In any case, my brothers are ten times worse.” – _Renly has been more than accurate proof of that tonight, with all his stupid questions_.... _In any case, I did learn a few more things about Alayne as well, which is never a bad thing..._

The dornish woman seemed to calm down a bit as she replied relieved: “Well if you say so... though I will have to have a few words with my own brother...”, frowning once more at the end, before adding: “...and, once more, I must insist you call me ‘ _Elia’_ , Stannis, I will have none of that ‘ _Mrs Targaryen_ ’ business; it makes me think of Rhaegar’s mother, the Gods bless her soul.”

Her husband next to her gave a small smile, before he changed the subject:

“Unfortunately, much to my wife’s disappointment, I was actually hoping to speak a few words with you about the Highgarden Contract, whilst most of us are here. I know the rest of your week in Kings Landing will be quite busy and my own won’t leave to much free time, especially with the whole family here for the Festivities...”

At Stannis’ confirmation nod, Rhaegar turned slightly towards Alayne and added with another wink: “... I promise I won’t steal him for too long, Miss Stone.”

Alayne only gave him a small smile before the four of them turned to the inside of the house.

 

As they reached the edge of the terrace doors, Stannis noticed Davos waiting for them. His friend let the others pass with a smile, before turning his attention to Stannis who came in last.

Davos spoke: “Rhaegar informed me that he hoped a few of could take a few moments to speak of the meeting this morning and further parts of the contract...” before inquiring, his gaze shifting between Stannis and Alayne’s walking away figure next to Elia’s, clearly able to read Stannis better than most: “... Everything alright?”

Stannis gritted: “All is _fine_.” – _Except for the fact that I am the world’s greatest ass_... _and Alayne won’t give me anything_...

 

 

**. . . . . . . . .**

 

 

 

As Sansa moved through the living room with Elia Targareyn, feeling both Stannis and Mr Seaworth’s gaze on her, her mind still buzzed from the conversation she had just had with Stannis.

 

His hot- headedness and paranoid male ego/ caveman attitude was all the more proof that he definitely wasn’t prepared to the truth about her. If this is how he reacted to a nonexistent relationship between her and Jon (- _eww_ by the way, he was her cousin!-) how would he react when she would try to explain that she was actually still _married_?... or the fact that she had _killed_ someone?...

It also proved to her more that Sansa and her troubles were not something Stannis and his world should be dealing with. Her association with him could only be bad for him and lead him to regret ever meeting her in the end.

All this was also further confirmation that Sansa had to _leave_.

The question was: _how_?

 

Heart still heavy and mind still buzzing in turmoil, Sansa barely noticed as Mrs Targaryen and herself entered a smaller, cosier room, which, thinking of Winterfell, she assumed was the drawing room.

Mrs Targeryn sighed: “It seems that no matter how many interesting people that have come to our home, Rhaegar will ever be focused on his work and will always end up taking a few minutes of our time to talk about business” shaking her head once more, as she led them to the sofa and chairs where Aegon and Daenaerys Targaryen were as well as the latter’s husband.

As Sansa noticed that only one of Rhaegar’s children was with them - and thankfully not the one she was also related to - she couldn’t help but inquire, afraid that Jon might just pop inside the room just as she was calming down, and in mock humour asked:

“Where are the others?... Was Rhaegar able to rope more people into his world of business and corporate contracts?”

Elia Targareyn chuckled as they both sat down: “No, thankfully not. Unfortunately Rhaenys and Edric had to leave to check on their little Rhaella, and Jon and Ygritte have also already left; something about Jon needing to look up something or contact someone...” she added rolling her eyes.

Sansa tried to stop herself from panicking wondering, what or _who_ Jon was looking up, even though she was sure it had something to do with _her_.

 

. . .

 

The small group had been talking for a few moments about Essos and how Daenerys Targaryen had met Kharl Drogo (- Sansa being secretly relieved that the subject of ‘ _her’_ hadn’t been taken out once more-) when Stannis’ younger brother and the younger Tyrell joined them.

From the way the two men had been talking – _conspiring_? - throughout the evening, Sansa was sure that they were lovers.

 

As Elia Targaryen spotted them, she inquired: “Is the business talk already over?”

Loras Tyrell gave a small snort: “No... Won’t be over anytime soon if I know Willas... No, we younger brothers decided it best to leave the serious talk to our elders.”

Renly added in confirmation: “Yes, I will willingly admit older brothers seem to be the brains, where as the younger brothers have the looks. – It is best if we left them to the serious talk and their idea of ‘fun’.”

Giving Sansa a cheeky wink, he added: “Oberyn Martell, having been prevented from gaining your _attention_ , has brought it fully to his lovely paramour, and Loras and I were going to retire to more interesting... activities whilst Willas, Doran and Stannis talk with Rhaegar and Arthur...”

 

As Stannis’ brother had winked at her and then continued to speak it was as if a light bulb was switched on inside Sansa’s brain: _Renly_! - Renly was her chance to escape!

Renly had arrived with Stannis and herself, so surely it would not seem strange that she left with him – he was her ... ‘ _lover’s gay brother’_... Surely no one would find it strange if she left with him. Especially since it was known that Stannis (and Rhaegar apparently) could go on for hours about business contracts. - _Hopefully the tactic will work_...

 

Putting on one of her best smiles, whilst also showing fatigue, Sansa spoke to the hostess: “I think I might head out with Renly and Loras” before turning to Renly directly: “... if that’s ok with you to dropping me off, of course?... As you say, sometimes Stannis forgets about everything else when business is brought up and I would not mind getting some rest after a very charming evening.”

Going for the kill, Sansa stepped a little closet to Renly with a small smile, mock-whispered: “And let’s not forget that you will have quite a few minutes with me, on the ride home, without Stannis or Seaworth vetoing our time together.”

Renly’s eyes brightened at the idea, took her arm in the crook of his elbow: “I knew you would fall for me... I knew you would realise who was the better- looking Baratheon.”

 

 

**. . . . . . .**

 

 

Although a few key matters had been finally cleared about the contract (– and Renly hadn’t been there to bother him with questionable remarks or intrigued looks –) Stannis was mainly happy that he could finally rejoin Alayne once the business talk finally ended. – Especially since they still had so much to talk about.

 

However, when he followed the rest of the men to another room, he was confronted with the _absence_ of Alayne, making Stannis frown in a mix of confusion and disappointment.

He first a first momentary thought that she was once more talking - _or doing other things_ – with Jon, (- making his jaw clench -) before Stannis remembered that the youngest Targaryen had left with his fiancée before he had joined Rhaegar and the other men.

Wanting answers, he turned to the hostess and tried to sound as calm as possible as he inquired: “Mrs Targaryen... _hum_ I mean, Elia... I can’t seem to find Alayne, would you happen to know where she might be?”

Elia Targaryen blinked a few times as her forehead creased: “Alayne left with your brother... she mentioned feeling tired, and had asked if he could bring her to the hotel as she didn’t know how long you would be with Rhaegar and Arthur... I thought she would have warned you.”

Stannis’ ears started to buzz; not just for the fact that Alayne had left with his ever gossipy brother, but the fact that she had _left_.

 

Trying to not make his panic show, Stannis gave another (probably not at all convincing) non- scowl- smile, as he replied: “Of course, she had mentioned feeling a little drowsy when we were out on the terrace...”

He gave Davos a subtle signal from the hand as he started giving his own parting words on the evening: “...Well, I think it might be time for me to join her. Thank you very much for a very lovely evening Elia, it was very lovely... the food was lovely... everything was lovely...”

Thankfully Davos appeared before he could say the word ‘ _lovely’_ once more and truly show the panic that was starting to rise inside him.

“Yes, Mrs Targaryen, thank you very much for including us in your soiree, both Stannis and I found it very enlightening... and I’m certain Miss Stone found it to be a very exciting evening... full of interesting ... details.”

Moving briskly away from Elia Targaryen after she returned their odd appreciation for the dinner, Stannis wasn’t entirely sure how he managed to give still somewhat appropriate but rather quick parting words to Rhaegar and Arthur as well as the rest of the guests before he was rushing to the car, Davos close behind.

 

He hadn’t even closed his door when he pulled out his cell from his pocket and dialled Alayne’s phone.

\- It went straight to voice mail, making Stannis growl in frustration.

As he felt the car start to move, Stannis closed his eyes for a second, as he tried to calm himself: _it’s alright, she just went to the penthouse to sleep... that’s why her phone is turned off... she will be in our bed_...

However, not fully convinced, he looked through his contacts and hit another number.

It rang...

... and continued to ring till he got his brother’s annoying voice mail message.

 

Not admitting defeat, he pressed the call button once more, with even more insistence. - It started to ring once more until it was finally picked up.

His brother's voice sounded out of breath as he huffed:"This better be bloody important-"

Stannis didn't even bother to hide the growl on his voice: "-Where is Alayne?!"

He could feel his brother's eyes rolling as he replied: "Gods Stan, way to not sound like a total control freak. Possessive boyfriends are definitely not in this year-"

Teeth gritting, jaw tightly clenched, Stannis growled- warned:

"-Renly, if you don't fucking tell me no-"

"- Alright alright... no need to get your panties in a twist, though I don't understand your over- the- top attitude: we just dropped her off at your hotel before going to Loras'-“

Stannis hung up before his brother could say any more on what Loras and he were doing at the Tyrell man’s house.

 

Finally, after another ten excruciating minutes of Stannis repeating to himself that Alayne would be in the master suite sleeping – and not truly believing it – they arrived at the hotel.

Stannis didn’t bother to wait for Davos to fully stop the car or to give the keys to the valet, rushing inside the main lobby without looking too much like a man ready to do a 100 meter dash.

However before he could reach the elevator reserved for the Penthouse Suite, he heard someone call his name. Turning he saw the concierge walking hurriedly towards him:

“Mr Baratheon... Mr Baratheon, there was a letter left for you...”

... And upon finally reaching Stannis, the hotel employee gave him an envelope with his name written on it.

 

Stannis felt his heart beat stop, taking the proffered item, guessing from whom it was from.

With shaking hands, and his heart starting beating erratically once more, he tore it open and pulled out the paper and started reading, his throat catching at the first line:

 

_To my businessman,_

_I don’t deserve your absolution, and I won’t ask for it. I’m sure you will soon talk with Mr Targaryen. He will probably enlighten you about who I am, and parts of my past, and prove to you that being with me would have been nothing but trouble for you._

_Hope that you do not blame the whole of women on one foolish one._

_Believe it or not, I tried to be as honest as possible with you and tell you as much as possible. Although you have already accused me of being a liar, know that it was not a lie for me. Even if there are too many to count in your eyes, once you find out the truth, know that my feelings for you were probably the most honest thing in my life._

_I can’t even regret any of my past that as it led me to you and our most wonderful (and very eventful) week together._

_I will always remember you, and cherish our time together._

 

_Yours,_

_S.S._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the song linked with Sansa and her good-bye to Stannis, thought it was (for the most part) appropriate:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IdneKLhsWOQ


	30. Chapter 29 - ... just a social call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis' mind is buzzing

 

 _‘...To my businessman... talk with Mr Targaryen... who I am... my past... nothing but trouble... foolish one... be as honest as possible... was not a lie for me... my feelings for you... most honest thing in my life... regret any of my past ... our most wonderful... cherish our time together... yours... S.S... Mr Targaryen... who I am... be as honest as possible... was not a lie for me... my feelings for you... most honest thing in my life... our most wonderful... cherish our time together... yours... S.S... who I am... was not a lie for me... my feelings for you... most honest thing... our most wonderful... cherish our time together... yours... S.S... yours... S.S... yours... S.S... yours..._ ’

 

Stannis re-read the letter several times until the words were nothing but a blur, his mind numb, his ears buzzing.

She had _left_.

She had left _him_...

... After she had written that their week together had been _‘wonderful’_... _‘that it was not a lie’_... that she would _‘always remember’_ him and she would _‘cherish’_ their time together...

Did she really think she could write this... write _all_ of that... _only_ that... with no other explanation... nothing else and he wouldn’t demand more?! He would really let her get away?!?

 

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there in the hotel lobby, or how he moved from it to his penthouse, but the next thing Stannis knew, the elevator dinged, indicating his arrival at the penthouse foyer, where he was greeted with silence.

His voice didn’t work; he seemed to be unable to call her out... call out her name... - not he actually knew her real name anyway.... Instead, he swiftly moved inside the apartment, running from room to room needing further proof that what was in the letter wasn’t a _lie_. That she really had _left him_.

He didn’t even bother to turn on the light – the light from the night sky and the city lights coming through the windows were enough for him.

The corridor was _empty_.

The master bedroom was _empty_.

So was the en-suite bathroom.

Moving back out of the master suite, he went through each of the guest rooms: all _empty_.

The living room and kitchen area were both _empty_ as was the balcony- terrace and the pool.

Stannis moved back inside and checked the other rooms, in case she had gone into them for so unknown reason.

When they also proved empty, he slowly made his way back to the guest room she had used when she hadn’t stayed in the master suite with him. Looking around, he first noticed her phone was still on the night stand, turned off, where she had obviously left it before the dinner – giving some explanation as to why it hadn’t been answered when he had called her from the car, or why Davos’ man could not locate it with the tracker whilst they had been driving back to the hotel.

Eyes moving away from the small object, Stannis then studied the bed. Even though done, it showed indentations of her sitting down on it. From there his eyes roamed further, until they landed on the large fauteuil in the corner where there was the outfit from this morning, when they had returned from the boat trip: the shirt had been folded precariously on the back of the fauteuil and the jeans hung across one of the arm chairs. Moving closer, he picked up the shirt. As if in a trance, he brought it to his face and inhaled. _Alayne_...- It still smelt of her...

Behind the chair, he also noticed a few other clothes in a small pile on the floor; most likely the ones she had worn during the last week.

From where he stood, Stannis could discern more clothes hanging in the open closet. He recognised one of the items: the dress from their second ‘date’ that had been cleaned and ironed by the hotel. The rest he assumed were the rest of the clothes that she had ordered from the hotel that had yet to be worn.

Even though she clearly wasn’t here, her presence still lingered...

She was still this siren, haunting him...

 

He didn’t know how long he stood there staring at the closet, her shirt in his left hand, when he detected movement from the corner of his eye.

“ _Stannis_...?”

At the call of his name, something inside him jolted Stannis back into action. He swiftly turned around to come face to face with Davos.

Mind somewhat cleared, Stannis lifted his right hand where the note was still being gripped tightly, his eyes zooming in on one word: ‘ _Targaryen_ ’.

His gaze returning to Davos’, he directed: “Call the car back from the hotel garage: we need it... _I_ need to talk to Jon.”

Stannis barely noticed Davos blink in surprise, mouth opening. Instead of paying any mind to his friend’s confusion, he passed Davos and headed back to the elevator foyer.

By the time he had opened to doors to the penthouse, Stannis could hear Davos rushing behind him, trying to catch up with him, as he was calling out: “Stannis... _Stannis_... be reasonable we can’t go to Jon’s now: it is past midnight-“

Stannis brusquely stopped and turned, making Davos nearly collide into him.

Growling, teeth clenched, he retorted: “-This is not a social call Davos! I don’t give a damn what time it is!... as for _reasonable_?!? You want me to be _reasonable_?!... She wrote me a _fucking_ _note_ , Davos – a _note_!... Didn’t even bother to give any explanation; just wrote how she didn’t _really_ lie to me... mentioned a mysterious past... but _nothing_ in terms of clarifications as to who she is or why she ran away!This is not the time to be _reasonable_. She wasn’t reasonable, there is no reason for me to be... we are past _reasonable_... the only ‘ _useful_ ’ thing she mentioned was to remind me of her questionable possible relationship with Jon, and _that_ is where we are going right now! We are going to go see Jon and I will get answers - answers that _she_ should have given me _herself_! And I am not waiting another bloody moment!”

 

 

. . .

 

 

_Bang, Bang, Bang!_

 

Stannis didn’t bother to control the intensity of his fist as he thumped on Jon’s apartment door, and all but ignored the concerned looks that Davos was sending his way, standing behind him. – The only thing Stannis’ mind was focused on was Alayne – or _S.S._ – and _Jon_.

However, when the door finally opened, it was Miss Ygritte Spear, Jon’s fiancée, who greeted them, not the man of the hour. She looked between the two men, in a mixture of confusion and worry:

“Oh! – Mr Baratheon... Stannis... Mr Seaworth... Did Jon call _you_?... I don’t know what is happening. He hasn’t been telling me anything since we’ve got home; has just been in his study ever since, calling people... looking through old WA files... family files... I was worried that talking about his mother tonight would trigger something within him...”

By the end of her awkward greeting, her eyes were boring into Stannis clearly hoping he would shed light on Jon’s current frame of mind.

Unfortunately for the young lady, Stannis had his own problems that needed resolving. Trying to hold some semblance of civility, he replied: “No Miss Spear: Jon did not call me. Nevertheless I’m assuming that what he has been looking at is in line with a matter important to me. I need to talk to him; its matter of urgency.”

 

Probably by the note of insistence in his voice or on his face, or her own worry for her fiancé’s odd behaviour, Ygritte Spear quickly lead both men down the apartment corridor to a brightly lit room. The inside had a very masculine feel to it, seemed to usually be quite ordered except for the fact that there were several files that had been spread out on the floor... Jon Targaryen was, as promised, already inside, in the middle of a phone conversation, an edge of unease to his own voice. He was so engrossed in what the other person replied that it took him several moments to realise that he had visitors.

Running his fingers through his hair, as the other hand still held the phone receiver; he raised his head from the papers on his desk, his gaze meeting Stannis’. His mind computing what – who – he was looking at, Jon demeanour changed and he promptly interrupted whoever was speaking on the other end:

“Mr Baratheon has just arrived at my flat. It is probably best I speak to him, on my end, and I will keep you updated on the situation as it progresses...”

_“...”_

“- Of course...– please notify me when you leave Winterfell and when you land in at Aegon Airport... Speak to you soon.”

_“...”_

 

The phone had barely clicked back on the receiver, before both Jon and Stannis spoke at the same time, their questions blurring together:

“She told you?”

“Where is she?”

The two questions led both men into a frowning contest of sorts, before a second sequence of muddled demands were spoken:

“What do you mean: _where is she_?”

“What did she have to tell me?”

 

It was then that understanding appeared in Jon’s eyes, before he whispered, his face looking down at the papers lying on the desk: “She didn’t tell you... she ran away instead... of course she ran away... _typical_...” his face sinking into his hands, shoulders dropping in resignation.

Then, as if only just realising the words he had been saying, Jon jolted from his chair, the defeated look changing to that of panic as his eyes met Stannis’ once more. There was a level of urgency in his voice – not too different to the one Stannis had been using for the last half hour as he cried out: “We have to go get her!?! We need to find her before she gets too far away and disappears again!?!- ”

\- Davos quickly cut him off, trying to subdue him – as he had tried to do with Stannis previously that same evening:

“- My men are already looking into finding Miss Stone: they are studying the hotel camera footage of the lobby and outer entrance, trying to find out where she went from the hotel, as well as following up on other leads. However, what **_we_** need right now is more _context_ : more specifically, what you are able to tell us. – I have a feeling that it will be invaluable in finding Miss Stone more swiftly.”

After the response, there was a long pause; one in which Jon was probably considering what to say. – However all this was trying Stannis’ non-existent patience, who was still very much at a loss, leading him to bark out:

“What the Seven Hells is going on?! What didn’t she tell me?! Why did she run away?!... WHO is she?!”

Looking at Stannis with what seemed to be a mix of concern and pity, [- _I_ _don’t want your fucking sympathy, I want bloody answers!_ -] Jon sighed in resignation as he went to one of the corners of the room where there Stannis noticed a liquor cabinet. On a usual day, Stannis might have been surprised by Jon pouring sizable portions of an amber liquid – most likely whisky - into three tumblers.

On the other hand, this was _not_ a bloody normal day; instead, jaw clenched, Stannis growled: “I don’t want a bloody drink.”

Nevertheless, Jon ignored him, finishing pouring the drinks, before turning back to face his two guests: “You better have a seat...” offering them both a glass. When Stannis did not take his and Davos only looked at his, Jon sighed: “... Trust me: you will need it...” before further insisting: “...and it will be best if you hear this _sitting down_.”

Jaw definitely clenched in an intense glare, Stannis stubbornly stayed standing, eyeing Jon, holding the drink in disgust.

 

Finally, seeing that Stannis would not sit or drink, Jon asked: “What has she told you?”

“ _Nothing_!?... Just left this letter!... saying that _you_ would say things about her... her past...”

Jon’s eyes zeroed in on the letter as Stannis pulled it out from his jacket pocket and started waving it about, fisting it in front of him. Clearing his throat, eyes still on the paper, Jon asked:

“Wh-... can I inquire as to what is written?... W-what did she write...?”

Glancing down at the damned words, Stannis gritted: “Something about her past... not being able to regret it... about never really lying... signed with _S.S._ – I assume those are her real initials? Are you going to tell me who she is?!”

Unable to look at Stannis, Jon stared at his own drink, taking a gulp before declaring:

“... Alayne... Alayne is actually my cousin: ... _Sansa Stark_. I didn’t recognise her at first – I had never met her before tonight – but when dad introduced me to her, and I marked on her blue eyes, I was _sure_ as to who was standing in front of me: she has the same eyes as her older brother Robb Stark... That’s the reason why I mentioned my mother’s family and my cousin Robb at the dinner: I wanted to see how she would react. The few questions after that... well, that was to _understand_... understand how she could just be there right in front of me when I had spent the better part of nearly five years looking for her.”

Stannis just stood there motionless, his eyes fixed on Jon, his mind completely blank.

Probably realising that he would not comment, and that Davos was just staring from one to the other, also awaiting some sort of reaction whilst he was clearly gaping, Jon continued:

“When Elia moved everyone to the living room for dessert, and ... hum... Sansa went to the bathroom, I used that time to... well, talk to her without you being around... I called her by her name: she didn’t even deny it, just stood there looking at me...” he took another long gulp of the drink, before adding: “... then I ... _requested_ that we meet tomorrow... hum well, today now... but, well, obviously that scared her since... since she _ran_ _away_... disappeared once more.”

Stannis wanted to blame Jon for making Alay– _No!... Sansa_ – runaway but he knew he had also been a big factor in her running... that and her trust issues... that and her _past_... the past that he unfortunately still didn’t actually know (-mainly since he had foolishly not really paid any attention to Jon when he had talked about his northern family, Stannis having been more focused on _Alayne_ ).

But instead on trying to remember anything of what Jon had said at the dinner, the main focus on Stannis’ mind was still trying to process the fact that Alayne – _his Alayne_ – was actually _Sansa Stark_... of the multi-million Dragon _Stark_ family.

For a brief moment, Stannis thought of his older brother and his own fascination with Lyanna _Stark_ , before he shook his head, not wanting any kind of comparison between himself and Robert.

 

Mind clearing somewhat, he put the drink down – _yes, this was definitely not the time to become a second Robert_ – Stannis tried to calmly sit down in the chair that had been previous offered to him and closed his eyes for a moment, putting his head in his hands.

He then got frustrated, to the point of near anger, with himself for not having paid close attention to Jon’s discussion about the Starks during the dinner.

... That’s when one particular detail of something Jon _had_ said did appear in his brain: ‘... _both her husband and the family lawyer have had trouble in locating her_...’.

Her _husband_.

 _Husband_.

It was worse than he thought: she did not have an ex-lover or even a current lover; she had a _husband_... As in married to; law binding _husband_.

Even as the word had been forming in his mind, it seemed to have just become the worse, most blasphemous word in the whole of the Common Tongue.

 

He must have been musing on this other man for quite some time because when he heard his name being called out and he straightened himself in the chair and opened his eyes, Stannis had both Jon and Davos observing him, also realising that both men had probably been trying to get his attention for a while from the concerned looks on their faces.

Clearly his mind, Stannis tried to focus on the most important: finding Ala- _Sansa_ and not thinking about her ass of a husband. – _He must be an ass_ , Stannis thought, remembering Sansa mentioning a betrayal of trust, and assuming – hoping - that it was this _husband_.

That's when he remembered another person that could possibly be helpful in some way into finding Sansa Stark. Turning to Jon, he asked:

“Does she have a child with... – _hum_ , does she have a son?”

Jon frowned at the question: “A son?... did she tell you she had a son? – To my knowledge, Sansa has no children.”

“She mentioned a ‘ _Rickon’_.”

Jon gave a small nod as understanding shown on his face: “ _Rickon_... The only ‘ _Rickon’_ I know of, and most likely the one she was referring to is ... _was_ her youngest brother: Rickard Stark... known as ‘Rickon’ Stark.”

“ _Was_?...”                    

Jon’s face turned mournful as he (re-)explained: “Sansa is the last of the Starks... all her siblings are believed to be dead. Rickon was only eight years old when he...”

At the comment and the trailing of the sentence, Stannis remembered Jon mentioning that Sansa Stark was the last of his mother’s family. However he also realised that Jon - nor anyone else at the dinner - had given any real account as to what happened to the rest of the family.

Questioning Jon about it, the other man went on to explain to both Stannis and Davos about how just before Sansa had been born, Eddard had taken over Stark Industries when his father had died – his sister had already died and his younger brother had started working further north for Castle Black Securities. That is when, not too far from Winterfell, the Greyjoy family was proven to have ties to the mob and the patriarch of the family – Balon Greyjoy – had been sent to prison. With the uncles all seeming as unbalanced and dangerous as the next - and probably worse than Balon - the two Greyjoy children had been put in with Social Services. The girl had soon ran away, but Eddard Stark had taken the boy in and raised him with his own children.

As Theon Greyjoy grew up, Eddard Stark had tried to keep him away from his father’s family business, even giving him a job with Stark Industries. Unfortunately, not long after Eddard Stark died, Balon had been released from prison and Theon decided to get back in contact with his father. By the time Mrs Stark and Robb Stark brother died in a car accident crossing the Twins Bridge (under questionable circumstances), Theon regrettably seemed to have fully converted back to his family’s way of life.

With Theon’s link with the Stark family, and now Sansa being the eldest – at only 16 - the Greyjoys kept on pushing for a possible ‘relationship’ between the families, possibly even a merger which who of maybe included a marriage. – The Greyjoys mostly likely wanting to use the Starks to bring legitimacy to themselves, and benefit on the ‘weakened’ Stark family when both Catelyn and Robb Stark had died. However, with the family lawyer’s guidance, and with Sansa noticing how much Theon had changed from the boy she had known growing up, they refused.

This refusal seemed to have been the clincher that – the Greyjoys taking it all in as a slight – led to a great fire of Winterfell Manor one evening, in which the whole household had been at home. Out of the four Starks remaining, Sansa was the only one to have apparently survived. It was believed that all of her younger siblings perished in the fire, even though no bodies had been found. Sansa was sixteen at the time, her sister, Arya, was fourteen, and her brothers: Bran was twelve and Rickon was eight.

At the end of the long heart-retching narration there was a long silence in which Stannis finally took a long gulp of his drink, his mind and heart going out to Sansa and the continual traumas she had faced as she was growing up.

 

 

\- The sound of a phone ringing interrupted the heavy hiatus. - _Davos’ phone_.

He spoke brusquely for barely a minute, before announcing to the other two men: “They have found the taxis she used when leaving the hotel.”

 

 


	31. Chapter 30 - ... just a few friendly interactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys... I’m finally back amongst the living! WOOHOO! Sorry for the wait (for this fic, as well as my others) but had quite alot of hand-ins/presentations last week... have family and presents to catch-up on this week but, have been working on my stories as well (and need to catch up on my reading and commenting for others ;) )...
> 
> Hope you like this (a bit filler) chapter.

 

 

Davos had barely hung up and informed them that the taxis had been found before Stannis was on his feet once more, ready to go to wherever his friend indicated the driver who took _his_ Alay- _Sansa_ \- was.

 

Unfortunately, when they finally arrived at the specified meeting point an excruciatingly long 30 minutes later, the questioning of the taxis driver proved practically useless when the man was only able to indicate that he had dropped the young lady off at the edge of a parking lot on the outskirts of town, several hours ago. From there, Stannis, mind still frantic, ordered that they canvass out from the car park the driver had specified.

 

They were now _several_ hours _later_ ; a few worried stares from Davos and Jon (as well as from others from Davos’ security team) _later_ , as well as a few cups of coffee _later_.

By now they had looked at the poor quality footage from the one security camera of the said parking lot, and had gone through most of the housing compound around it.

All this had finally led them to Janos Slynt, the landlord for several of the blocks of flats. As Davos and Jon continued to ask the sad excuse for a man questions, Stannis continued to look around at the dilapidated buildings in trepidation and anger. No wonder Sansa had knew all about those dreadful apartments in his business file: she was actually in buildings in a _very_ similar state, possibly even worse.

 

“... I might have a tenant of that description, but I might not... I have soo many... ‘nd my mind is not workin’ its best at the moment, still vary early in the mornin’...”

Stannis wanted to grabbed the man by his jacket and force him to _remember_. Thankfully Jon, who was a little calmer, took out a few fifty Dragon bills and insisted: “... and how well is your mind working _now_?”

Looking down at the money, and hastily grabbing it, the man gave a small smile: “... Ahhh, it’s definitely comin’ back to me... there’s definitely a tall, red head in one of my buildin’s – can’t believe my mind blanked on ‘er: she’s quite the _looker_... but now for me to find the right key to the right buildin’-“

\- Suddenly, Stannis, who had lost little patience he had been holding on to, grabbed the snivelling man by the shoulders and growled:

“I think you’ll be able to find that key very _soon_... very soon _indeed_ , or that man right there might accidentally inform the city’s Social Housing Office that these buildings that you are so _generously_ renting out are actually being under-reported in the money collected and that the management of this place is _disgraceful_ at best... and don’t let me get started on the call the Westerosi Immigration Office might receive in terms of the people actually living in _your_ flats...”

The man was pale with fear at either the threats Stannis had just worded or for actually being pushed against the wall and held by a man twice his size, as he quickly stammered: “... I-I ...I think I just remember’d where I put that key...”

Stannis gave the most unconvincing smile: “ _Yes_... I thought you might have...”

Unfortunately in took another twenty minutes before the little shit of a man was able to retrieve the elusive key and then lead them to the correct building and floor level. When Slynt finally brought them to the door, he worriedly asked Stannis if he wanted him to open the door for him as well. However, as much as Stannis wanted to rush in and see Sansa, his mind was still thinking coherently enough to know it was probably best to _not_ barge in her flat unannounced.

He could feel both Davos and Jon’s stares (as well as Janos Slynt’s) behind him, but he couldn’t care less; all he wanted to think about was the woman on the other side of the door.

 

Heart stopping, he raised his fist to the door.

 

 

 

**. . . . . . . . .**

 

 

 

_Knock, knock, knock_...

 

Sansa was pulling the sheets taunt, to remove all possible creases when she heard a knock at the front door.

Then silence.

The pause lasted long enough that there was a second succession of knocks.

After a small sigh, she shifted from the side of the bed and moved from the room to the front entrance. Opening the door she was greeted to a man who was definitely on the large side of the scale, but who also had a friendly demeanour. Clearly Sansa was not who he was expecting as he was only able to open his mouth before what Sansa could not equate to stage fright got the better of him: instead of introducing himself, he just looked at her from head to toe and took a small step back as his cheeks tinted red.

Thankfully that is when Mrs Tarly emerged from down the corridor, looking a little frazzle: “Sammy!! Oh, how wonderful, you have finally arrived!... Sorry about having you answer the door Aly, the little one was being demanding: so much like his father at that age.”

 

As the older woman reached the two other people, she gave a hug and kissed the man who had yet to move or even say anything.

“Aly, may I present my son: Samwell. He is little Sammy’s father. Sam, this is Aly; she is just helping put the house in order before your wife arrives as well as your brother and his wife... and then your father, later in the week...”

Being presented to the shy man, Sansa gave a small smile and a polite greeting, that he seemed too flustered to respond to, only mumbling a small greeting in return. Thinking she would probably not have much more of a conversation from him, Sansa turned back to Mrs Tarly: “... I’ll just let you catch up with your son, whilst I finish up on getting the guest bedrooms ready.”

“That would be lovely my dear, thank you so much.”

 

. . .

 

Once Sansa had finished with all the cleaning work, she went to the living room where she could hear Mrs Tarly speaking with her son.

“... Oh and when your father arrives, please try not to get in another argument with him about becoming a Maester. I know he can be quite ... well you know: he’s your father. But Sammy: he _is_ your _father_ and it _is_ the Winter Festivities! It’s a time to be _joyful_ and forget about silly family arguments...- Oh, Aly! “

Coming further into the room, Sansa clearly noticed the relief on Samwell’s face for the interruption. Unfortunately the man seemed to still have not gotten over his timidness from earlier and barely looked up at her from his chair.

Mrs Tarly on the other hand, gave little Sammy to his father and stood up to meet her, and pay her for her work: “Oh, thank you, Aly: the house looks marvellous as always. Are you sure you are unable to come Saturday morning? My husband is coming home and we are havening a few guest over for the festivities?... With such a full house, I’m worried that the house will be a mess once more by then...”

Giving an awkward smile, Sansa replied apologetically: “I’m sorry Mrs Tarly but... my partner convinced me that it was time to take a break from Kings Landing, with the Winter Break and all...” – _Yep, definitely time to move to the next city before Ramsay... (or Stannis) find me_...

“Oh, that’s nice: where is he taking you?”

Tighter smile: “I don’t know yet...” – _Which is true... haven’t actually decided yet. Will probably decide tomorrow once at the bus station_...

“Oh! A surprise trip: how romantic!” – _Yea... maybe not_...

Turning to her son, Mr Tarly then added: “Which reminds me, Sam: when does your friend arrive from the North?... Do you know if he and his girlfriend will be coming: I still have them as a ‘maybe’ for the party?”

Blinking a few time, Samwell Tarly, replied in a soft voice: “I think he has been preoccupied the last few days with his own family. But I’m sure he will be able to make it... him and his fiancée...”

Mrs Tarly gave a satisfied nod before turning back to Sansa, shaking her head a little worried: “The holidays are always sooo hectic...”

She then added, looking more properly at Sansa: “By the way I love the new cut, though it is a shame you changed your hair colour... dark auburn looked soo lovely on you,” ending with an admonishing smile that only mothers knew how to do.

Smile still in place, Sansa ran her fingers through her new blonde haircut: “My partner convinced me for a change.” – _Well both of them: to make sure neither find me_...

“Oh... you will soon have to learn that you shouldn’t do everything because your man wants it a certain way. Look at my Sammy: his father was furious when Sam refused to go into the military and follow Randyl‘s footsteps. But I convinced him that our son would make the most marvellous Maester out there. And now he is Maester Aemon Targaryen’s protégé! Can you believe it! My son actually is in constant contact with one of the Targaryens!...”

“That really must be something...”

 

. . .

 

On her bus journeys home from Mrs Tarly’s house, Sansa was glad she had decided to take this job: Mrs Tarly paid well, and Sansa definitely needed to get back to the real world and the reality of her situation... and get used to cleaning people’s houses again.

However she also had to acknowledge that the ache her muscles currently felt was definitely not as good as the _muscle_ _ache_ she had _felt_ several times with Stannis during the past week. And let’s not even mention the fact that the pay, even if good, was not even a sixth of what she would have gotten with him... or the procuring of it as enjoyable.

\- Not that she would have accepted any more money from Stannis... Part of Sansa was still very tempted to give the money that he had given her away... That is if she didn’t desperately need it to get out of town.

Sighing loudly, she forced her mind away from Stannis and instead thought of the day so far. She had barely slept last night and had ended up leaving her flat really early to take the 2 hour train ride to Tumbleton to call Arya and update her sister and informing her that she was finally free of her ‘ _complicated situation_ ’.

At the thought, Sansa wanted to laugh: would she ever really be ‘ _free’_ of the complicated web Stannis had spun around her?

All day he had always been in the back of her mind, Sansa wondering what he was doing at that moment, and she doubted the thoughts would cease anytime soon. – She had actually barely thought of Ramsay, as the thoughts of the dark haired, blue eyed man replaced any dread associated with her faraway husband. It was even with Stannis in mind that, after the call, she had then figured it would maybe be best if she got a new hair cut and dye her hair then, before she would return to Kings Landing for her cleaning job.

So now here she was, finally getting back to her run down flat, a little more money in her bag, new hair cut (- _blonde..._ -); ready for the next chapter of her nomadic life. Also in the bag was her exam revision material ( - that she was should be looking at for tomorrow’s exam - ) and stuff that she hadn’t taken out from the previous evening; notably the money from the second night with Stannis. She was a little annoyed that she didn’t have the second ‘date’ dress to return to Shae – but then again Sansa was pretty sure it wasn’t safe to go to Shae’s anymore: Stannis and his side kick would most likely go pay her Lothraky friend another visit.

Reaffirming her thoughts, Sansa was even more convinced that she was done with Kings Landing: it was definitely time for her to move on before she could make even more of a mess of the situation. The only last small issue keeping her here was her exam tomorrow. If it wasn’t for it, she would already be on a bus to... _Lannisport?... Blackcrown?... Sunflower Hall_?...

 

With a sad smile, her hand went subconsciously to the necklace that she was still wearing. Even knowing that leaving Stannis had been for the best, Sansa couldn’t help but be thankful she actually had something to remember him by.

 

. . .

 

She had just gotten off the second bus, starting to walk through one of the housing complexes near her own when Sansa noticed one of the scruffy kids that lived in her block coming towards her. Coming closer, she recognised him as the plumpy kid who she sometimes gave a piece of candy to with his younger sister. Unfortunately, the uneven quick pace and the worried expression on his face did not reassure her.

“Missus Red... _Missus Red_...”

Coming closer to her, he must have noticed her new look as he stopped in his tracks, and commented: “Hey Red... can’t really call you that no more can I?”

Giving him a smile, Sansa greeted him with his own nickname in return: “Hi Hot-pie... how are things going?”

His eyes going from her hair to her face, the boy went straight into the reason he had ran to her: “There are _suits_ at yer flat.”

At the statement, knowing she was only five housing blocks from her own flat, Sansa felt her heart skip a beat. – _Stannis_...

 

In this neighbourhood, being full of undocumented families, people who couldn’t afford anything else and others who probably weren’t in the best of terms with the authorities, everyone had different reasons for not wanting any ‘ _suits’_ to come and visit the housing complex. Sansa had always found some relief in this knowledge, and was even more relieved now when it proved useful in this exact situation.

Trying to hide some of the panic in her voice, she asked: “Thank you Hot-Pie... wh-what did these men look like?... was one quite tall, with black hair and mesmerizingly intense blue eyes?”

“Dunno about the _mesmerisin’_ part but definitely intense: intensely _scary_. He all but pound’d Shit-Slynt into the wall...”

_Yep... definitely Stannis_...

Throat even more obstructed, voice hitched, Sansa asked awkwardly: “... do you... _hum_... do you know what he wanted?”

The boy shook his head, clearly a little frustrated that he couldn’t be more helpful:

“... No... mum just sent me to be on the lookout for you... they all were wearin’ very expensive suits, askin’ questions about you... Slynt all but shit in his trousers when the tall one – the ‘ _mermerisin’_ ‘ one - ordered him to open the door when you weren’t answerin’... was apparently they then started askin’ lots of questions ‘bout you... plus mum didn’t like how the beard fella went around to our flat and all the others on the floor and asked us all loads of questions...”

 

Well she had to hand it to Stannis and his side-kick, _Grumpyman_ : they didn’t give up easily and didn’t let much stop them.

On the other hand, Sansa only had half her ‘ _winnings’_ from her two ‘ _dates_ ’ with Stannis - since she hadn’t the first nights money in her bag - and she didn’t have most of her stuff. At least she had some money and she had her course books to revise. However, the thing that annoyed her the most was the fact that her photo of her siblings and the knife Robb had given her were now out of reach.

Her thoughts were broken when Hot-pie then added: “They left around midday, after ‘avin’ a proper look around your flat. The younger one got a call – something about someone’s plane havin’ arrived.”

Heart pounding, Sansa was only able repeat the end of the mention in a whisper: “...’ _someone’s plane havin’ arrived_ ’?”

The boy nodded eagerly: “Aye.”

... _Ramsay_?

“Do... do you know where the plane was coming from.”

Hot –pie only shook his head ‘ _no_ ’.

 

... _Ramsay...Ramsay...Ramsay_...

Her heart was now thumping at the beat of her husband’s name...

 

Feeling herself go a little faint, Sansa momentarily closed her eyes to try and regain some of her senses.

_Breathe in... breathe out... breathe in... breathe out_...

Slowly opening them again, Sansa concentrated on the boy in front of her – and not her possibly _not-so-distant_ husband – and asked: “You said they left... does that mean there is no one at the flat anymore?”

Hot-pie looked a little annoyed as he replied: “They left but two men stayed at yer apartment though...”

 

Sighing, her shoulders sinking in resignation, she softly whispered: “Thank you for the warning Hot-Pie... and thank your mother...” before she moved back towards the bus stop.

   – _Best to find a motel for the night_...

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new hair cut looks something like this in my head:  
> [](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/shortsandramblings/media/New%20Cut_zpszojidjqk.jpg.html)


	32. Chapter 31 - ... just a few old faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter was not the easiest to write, to the point where it has gotten quite frustrating + daunting... really hope its ok and some bits don't seem too far fetched... enjoy (hopefully)! :)

 

 

( _Tuesday_ )

 

 

Stannis felt the movement of the car jerk before someone next to him – most likely Davos – shook him softly.

“ _Stannis, we’ve arrived._ ”

Opening his eyes, mind still jumbled, Stannis grumbled incomprehensible words as he opened his car door and got unsteadily out of the vehicle.

He had barely stopped at all since Monday night, after leaving Rhaegar Targaryen’s house, and it was now starting to truly affect his physical state of being. Needless to say, a quick rest whilst one of Davos’ men drove them through the streets of Kings Landing had helped very little.

Once fully out, he stretched his tense, stiff body before inhaling the cool afternoon air.

Unfortunately, his somewhat reinvigorated state was quickly damped when he heard Jon Targaryen speak: “He has already arrived and checked in...” making the last 24 hours rush back through his mind, and reminding Stannis of where he was:

 

When there had been no response from inside Sansa’s flat – even after he had knocked just a _little harder_ a second time – Stannis had requested – maybe a _little_ on the aggressive side – that Janos Slynt open Sansa’s door.

Once door open and stepping inside, Jon, Davos and Stannis had looked around for any possible clues: about Sansa, what she actually had been doing in Kings Landing, where she might be... Going through her room, he had felt even more unease at the state and size of her living accommodation.

With not much to go through it hadn’t taken too long before they had found a hiding place in the furthest wall behind her make shift bookcase. Inside they had found a few personal effects (a small picture of a young Sansa – most likely 14 or 15 – with a younger girl and two smaller boys, another with her siblings again as well as her mother and older brother, a passport photo of her father, and a knife Jon recognised as being Robb Stark’s from Winterfell Academy). They had also found the money he recognised as being from their first ‘date’ together. All this had reassured Stannis to a certain extent: these belongings still being in the flat proved she had not yet skipped town and had planned on returning to the small apartment.

Now, several hours later, Stannis was more and more convinced that someone – possibly one of her neighbours – had tipped her off about the men who had gone in her flat, and so she was most likely _gone_ ; which was the main reason he was now looking into a new possible avenue to help them find Sansa.

 

Of course other things hadn’t help the on-going headache of the day.

As they had been looking through the flat, Stannis had received a call from the office, making him realise he had forgot to warn Justin Massey that he would most likely not be coming into the office today. – Thankfully Davos had remembered.

Unfortunately Davos had not informed Renly, who had been the one to call him, wondering if his brother was ‘ _dying_ ’ or had ‘ _changed personality with Robert_ ‘, because of course, this was the day his older brother had decided that he didn’t care he had a broken leg and would still come to Kings Landing to ‘ _see how things were going in the capital’s BI branch_ ’. – Or, much more likely, sick of Stannis’ refusing to take his calls and Renly’s not good enough answers to his questions, Robert had come to find out more about Stannis’ personal affairs first hand.

Davos had returned both his brothers’ calls explaining that Stannis would not be in, leading one or both of them to tell half of Kings Landing - or at least Baratheon Industries - as he then not only got a call from Rhaegar Targeryen but also Willas Tyrell as well as Doran Martell, and Marya Seaworth had called her husband.

Having no patience or time to deal with any of these ridiculous calls, Stannis left it to Davos - and Jon in the case of Rhaegar - to reply a more polite way of saying ‘ _mind your bloody business_ ’. (– Stannis had still no idea what Jon had said to his father as to what exactly the both of them were doing...).

However, one good side to the several calls is that they had reminded Jon of his own phone conversations the night before, before Stannis had come to his apartment. Jon had further explained his side of the search for his cousin: he had gotten in contact with his friends at Castle Black Security, who seemed at least as adept as Davos and his team into looking personal files, yet maybe with more savoury/ less questionable routes. Then after the phones calls he had also decided to call Mr Luwin: the Stark family lawyer – the person he had actually been on the phone with when Stannis and Davos had arrived at his apartment.

Apparently in the last few years, Jon had been in constant contact with Mr Luwin, to the point where it had gotten apparent that the older man had some way of knowing Sansa was alright, whilst not actually knowing where she was exactly...

 

This, of course, all tied in with another matter linked directly with Sansa: her _husband_.

 _Ramsay Bolton_...

That was his name.

Sansa’s husband.

\- _He has a stupid name_...

 

Stannis was internally very relieved that Jon had not called him, or informed him that they had found Sansa.

When Jon had talked about what he had heard of Sansa’s marriage, he had spoke about how she had barely been married two months when she disappeared. However from what he had found out she had seemed happy in her marriage, which had confused him in Mr Luwin’s negative feelings about Ramsay Bolton.

During the several conversations Jon had had with Mr Luwin it had apparently become obvious to Jon was that Mr Luwin thought very little of Sansa’s husband, having very little regard for him and had most likely done everything in his power to make sure the man could not touch a Stag of Sansa’s inheritance.

However, apart from Mr Luwin and a few strange rumours, most people seemed to think nothing was amiss in the marriage: everyone said how she got on with her husband and how they seemed to be truly in love. - Ramsay Bolton had even been very distraught when she had disappeared and seemed to have every intention of finding his wife.

What had been interesting was that Sansa’s disappearance coincided with another one: a Myranda Bones’, who also happen to have a previous liaison with Ramsay Bolton a year before he met Sansa. Many had wondered if Miss Bones had anything to do with Sansa’s disappearance, especially since she had been known to have some violent outbursts.

Yet, even with everything he had found, and even though the Stark lawyer had never been very forthcoming with Jon about Sansa, Jon seemed to trust Mr Luwin more than Ramsay Bolton.

 

Of course all this had shifted somewhat with their conversation last night: it would also seem that when Jon had suggested possibly contacting Mr Bolton about having found Sansa, Mr Luwin had discouraged it firmly, finally explaining to Jon that apparently Ramsay Bolton was the main reason to her disappearance. However the lawyer had yet to explain what exactly had transpired between Ramsay Bolton and Sansa.

(Of course, there was the added fact that as soon as Stannis had heard the name ‘Ramsay Bolton’, he might have requested Davos to start his men on doing their own search on the man.)

 

 _\- Ding_!

The elevator jerked before the small sound-alarm informed its occupants of the arrival to a higher floor, bringing Stannis back to the present: the hotel in which Mr Luwin was staying.

 

All three of them, quietly walked to the room door, letting Jon knock. They didn’t wait long before the door opened to reveal a small grey man, with light grey hair, most likely in his mid-sixties. Noticing Jon, he first greeted him:

“Mr Targaryen, I would say it is nice to see you but given the circumstances... best get on with things.”

Leading them inside, he then turned his attention to both Stannis and Davos, eyes quickly going between the two, they stopped on Stannis as he extended his hand to him: “You must be Mr Baratheon... and you Mr Seaworth.”

 

Once seated in the living room, the older man turned once more to Stannis, and inquired: “Mr Baratheon... Mr Targaryen informed me that you have recently been in contact with Ms Stark?”

The lack of ‘Mrs Bolton’ not going unnoticed, Stannis still felt a little awkward as he gave a dry cough before answering: “Hum... I had been housing Ms Stark the last few days in the place I was staying in Kings Landing...” – _No need to tell him exactly how I met Sansa... or that I might have been quite insistent that she stay one point_...

The old man frowned in confusion: “She trusted you enough to come to you for help?... How come then, did she run?”

Feeling even more tongue-tied, Stannis tried to explain:“To be completely honest, she hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me her _real_ name... but it was when she met Mr Targaryen on Monday night and his presence made her worry for her safety and that he might inform Mr Bolton of where she was that made her run...” giving Jon a pointed looked.

Luwin gave a nod of understanding, even though Stannis wondered if he actually understood everything, before he started speaking himself.

 

Several hours later, Mr Luwin had finally revealed the source of Sansa’s disappearance and hiding: Sansa wanting to celebrate after finding quite a big lead in trying to find her sister... coming to her husband’s house and finding Theon Greyjoy – still wanted in relation to the Winterfell fire – in Ramsay’s basement... Ramsay and Myranda arriving (clearly having an affair)... one thing lead to another, till all hell broke loose: Ramsay trying to get the gun from Sansa, Theon stabbing Ramsay in the leg whilst Myranda attacked Sansa... Sansa shooting the other woman... Sansa running away, hiding from her husband...

At the end of his discourse, the lawyer further explained that Sansa would write him short, untraceable text messages once every 5-6 months. These occurrences were when he believed she moved place, to let him know she was still alive. – Unfortunately for them, he had received one this very morning, confirming further Stannis apprehension that she had left Kings Landing.

Mr Luwin also lead on to confirm that Arya Stark was definitely very much still alive - Sansa being in continual contact with her - and there was a chance that so were Rickon and Bran, the information making Jon fall out of his chair.

This piece of information that was kept hidden in fear of Ramsay Bolton being more prone to finding them and using them as leverage against Sansa.

 

 

 

**. . . . . . .**

 

 

( _Wednesday_ )

 

 

With a heavy sigh, and click of the neck, Sansa looked down at her notes once last time, waiting for Miss Missandei to call them in.

 

After an uncomfortable night in a motel on the edge of town – even more so than the one in her flat – Sansa had gone to her Wednesday morning cleaning job. Now that she only had half of her ‘winnings’ from her time with Stannis and only had the clothes that were in her bag, it was definitely best she gain a few more hundred Dragons before taking the night bus tonight. After the job, she had gone straight to the school’s library and had spent the rest of the afternoon revising for her exam, craning her neck over her course work and notes.

So now here she was, ready to take her last exam in college, complete her degree, before going straight to the bus station to get to her next destination. – One day she would have to make sure that all her credits were properly transferred to get the actual degree... in her _real_ name...

 

The door opened, Miss Missandei looked out from the classroom to her students leaning against both sides of the hallway, most of them trying to cram one last bit of information about Westerosi Finance.

“You may enter – but make sure to put all your notes and revision material back in your bags, and _turn off_ your phones.”

Coming inside the room, Sansa settled into a desk near the back of the room.

 

 

. . .

 

 

She was nearly done, rereading her answers and the essay before finishing her conclusion, when Sansa felt eyes on her. Looking up automatically, her gaze scanned the room until it came to the windowed door.

Just then her blue eyes met dark brown ones.

 

 _Damon_...

She hadn’t seen the man properly for over four years, but she recognised him straight away, even with the shorter cut hair and even gruffer appearance.

Not even two seconds past since their eyes had collided before she saw the recognition light up on his face as his gaze went from her eyes to her new hair to her face in general before a triumphant smirk spread on his face.

Blinking Sansa looked at him a little longer, heart beating faster she forced herself to remain calm - or at least appear calm - before she couldn't do anything but look away, back down at her exam papers.

 

Her mind started to buzz: _Damon is here... Damon has recognised me_...

Now that he had found her the likely hood of her leaving the building without was next to nil. – _With the exception of one of us being dead_...

Her worry building further, she also recognized that she didn't want to endanger these innocent bystanders in her fucked up marriage and possibly being gravely injured. Damon was probably the most rational of Ramsay's crew but that didn't mean that if she tried to run or if she took too long to come to him that there wasn’t the risk that Damon would not do something _drastic_.

Thinking fast, she quickly (- trying to look as calm as possible -) wrote a very simple conclusion before writing on a new piece of paper:

**_‘Miss Missandei_ **

**_The man outside is dangerous. Unfortunately, I have to go with him, as I’m worried what he might do._ **

**_Do NOT call the police. – Once we start moving down the corridor+ out of sight,  Please call this number [_ ** number written **_] and tell the man at the other end that ‘Damon found Sansa’ and answer any questions he may have.’_ **

She then remembered that she still had Jon’s business card from Monday night. Thankful that she was in one of the last rows, Sansa cautiously took it out and wrote on it, under Jon’s number:

‘ ** _Ramsay is dangerous – do not trust – call Luwin._** ’

Before adding to the note she had written to Miss Missandei: ‘... **_call number on card as well and give his business card back to Mr Targaryen._** ’

 

She discreetly took out her ‘Arya phone’ and sent a message to her sister:

‘ ** _D found me. Kings landing. Stay safe. I luv u._** ’

And a second to Luwin:

‘ ** _Damon found me. Kings landin. Will try + call._** ’

 

Messages sent, not finding anything else to do, she gathered her bag, (-making sure to slide carefully the Arya phone in her shoe and covering it all by her jeans-) and stacked all her papers neatly, with the note at the top, before getting up and walking to the teacher’s desk.

 

Reaching her desk, Miss Missandei gave her a smile as she took her papers and spoke softly: “Thank you Minisa, I knew...”

There must have been something on Sansa’s face, or maybe she had gotten quite pale, because the Naathi woman stopped talking and looked worriedly at her.

“Miss Rivers, are you alright?”

Forcing a very uncomfortable smile, Sansa replied: “Of course...” before she practically thrust her stack of papers under the other woman nose, trying to show as clearly as possible the note she had written for her teacher.

Miss Missandei blinked a few times – clearly still very much confused by Sansa’s state of being as well as her brusque response and hasty action.

Awkwardly clearing her throat she inquired: “This was your last class wasn’t it?”

Sansa could only nod.

“I could grade the exam now... if you would like?”

“Y-yes please... that would be great.”

Thankfully that is when Ms Missandei looked down at the papers and noticed the note, her eyebrows rising. Sansa then noticed her skim over the note before the woman’s gaze shift slightly to look towards the door.

Clearly she wasn’t sure what to do as she uneasily said: “... Well I’m sure you did very well...”

Not wanting to draw attention from Damon and make him wonder what she was doing, Sansa gave one last pointed look at the teacher, and a “Thank you, Miss Missandei, have a nice evening...” before she slowly turned around, hiding any possible trace of worry and dread from her face and walked towards the door – the feeling not too different to what she would assume a death row inmate would feel walking to the chair.

 

Once in the corridor, Damon greeted her with a great big smile on his face: “Mrs. _Bolton_ , it’s wonderful to see you again after _soo_ long.”

Tight smile, she replied with a nod: “Damon... I’m not sure if I can return the sentiment.”

“I’m sure you will be more pleased to see your _husband_.”

At the comment, Sansa swallowed the bile in the back of her throat, gave another tight smile but stayed silent, worried what might actually come out of her mouth.

Damon didn’t seem that perturbed by her lack of response and pointed to her bag: “I would be happy to hold your bag for you... as well as your phone...wouldn’t want you to be encumbered by your belongings.”

The politeness did not hide the command of the words.

 

Sansa gave him the bag as well as her Podrick phone.

 

. . .

 

After leading her outside to his car, and giving her a (thankfully not so thorough) frisk, Damon drove them for quite a while, till they actually left Kings Landing. In the middle of nowhere, they finally reached a small cottage she assumed Ramsay or Damon had either rented out or had just forced in.

Once inside she was actually surprised that her lovely husband wasn’t there.

The door opened directly to a small kitchen and then living room area before they reached stairs leading to a first floor. Damon silently indicated her up the stairs, down the corridor to one of three rooms. Passing by the other two open doors, the first one was clearly in use, with quite a mess inside, bed undone, but the other two rooms clearly had not been in use for a while, a small layer of dust having accumulated on the furniture.

 

Leaving her in the last room, Damon only gave her a small nod before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Sansa heard the lock turn.

And then the wait started.

She looked around the room to the whole of the furniture: a double bed with side tables on each side, a wardrobe, and a small table and chair was next to the window. There was a large windowsill with a few old pillows on it and heavy drapes framing it.

The wait grew.

 

It grew to the point that Sansa thought she might as well check the window – locked – before she silently took out her Arya phone from sent another message to Arya and Luwin.

‘ ** _Cotage. Outside KL. West. C trees from windo._** ’

To Luwin’s message she added: ‘ ** _b ready to record.'_**

She hid the phone once more in her boot.

 

She was actually surprised when it was more than an hour later, the small cress of the moon high in the sky, when she saw two car headlights come from the route Damon have driven down earlier.

The cars turned to the front of the house making it impossible for her to see it.

 

Once more surrounded by darkness, only the moon providing some light, she quickly took out the phone and put it under of the pillows on the sill.

 

A few minutes later she heard the front door open and close.

Several voices spoke – soft mumbling could be heard through the floor boards.

However only one set of steps could be heard coming up the stairs and then walk down the small corridor.

 

She pressed the ‘ ** _call’_** and then the ‘ ** _mute’_** button of the phone, before quickly hiding once more and moving away from it.

 

There was a small pause before door unlocked and then opened.

 

And then she heard his voice:

“Ah ... my sweet, lovely wife has finally returned to me.”

 

 


	33. Chapter 32 - ... just a few lovely memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback into Sansa's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgghh... chapter took sooo long to finish, I’m definitely going nuts. A few bits might be a bit stretched/over the top but hopefully you guys will still like.

 

 

 

Sansa opened the opened the door to their house, an elated smile on her face.

 

She knew she shouldn’t been this excited: the information could still prove to be false or refer to someone else. Yet she couldn’t help but feel hopeful: she was closer to finding Arya... finding her sister... finding her family...

Not that Ramsay wasn’t her family as well. It’s just that he represented her present, her future.

Father, Mother, Robb, Arya, Bran and Rickon were her whole life. Even gone, they would always be a huge part of her.

If she did find Arya, hopefully these two parts of her family would become one larger, happier family... A normal family... One with less troubles... One with only your normal everyday problems to take care of... Not wondering if there were others who wanted to kill you... burn your house...

But first she had to find her sister.

Arya was alive – she _had_ to be. Sansa refused to believe anything else: she had sent her away herself, made sure Arya got safely to the tunnels below the crypts at Winterfell. Arya had to have survived, there was no other possibility. Sansa was sure of it. She could _feel_ it, no matter what others tried to convince her. And now Sansa was closer than ever in finding her.

 

There again Ramsay continued to be wonderful. After everything, he had stayed by her side, listening to her concerns, her fears, trying to alleviate them as much as possible, trying to reassure her. He was just _wonderful_ : the most wonderful husband Sansa could have asked.

Unlike others, who continually tried to tell her to ‘ _let go_ ’, he was so patient with her about the whole trying to find Arya. He had even offered to help her, but since Sansa had not much to go on and he had already been so amazing, she thought it best if she at least start on her own and only when it was starting to show promising results she would bring him in. - The task was already frustrating enough for her, she didn’t want to burden and ask more her husband than he was already doing.

 

But today she had received amazing news: a clear breakthrough, if it proved reliable.

So it was time she would share everything with Ramsay: all of what she had found so far on her missing sister, and hopefully he would be able to help her go further. - Ramsay had always seemed rather good in finding things and being quite resourceful in that area.

 

For all this, she would first make him his favourite meal.

 

. . .

 

 

All the ingredients were set; her pots ready... all she needed to do now was cut the rabbit.

But Sansa couldn’t find Ramsay’s large kitchen knife...

Of course, a part of her knew she was being silly: any one of the other knives could probably do the job; but that one was definitely the _best one_ (- the blade was always so very sharp, able to cut anything perfectly-) and she wanted everything to be sublime.

She had already looked in all the kitchen’s drawers and cupboards... she had even looked in the garage, their bedroom, the bathroom... a good twenty minutes still no knife. But Sansa would not admit defeat...

... Her final idea was Ramsay’s room in the basement: the end bit of the lower level was reserved for Ramsay. When she had married him and first moved in, he had warned her not to go in. Even if a little curious, she had been more than willing for him to have his own ‘special place’: everyone was allowed their own place of escape.

Giving herself valid excuses and reassuring herself that Ransay didn’t have to know if she had quickly looked in, Sansa went down the stairs, went through the first part of the cellar before she reached the door.

Giving a final sigh, she opened it.

 

Well the good news was she had found the knife...

...But her delight was dampened greatly by everything else in the room.

 

She knew she shouldn’t be here and thus, shouldn’t actually be judging it, but it had such a strange feeling to it. The room was already quite dark since the only source where the high windows near the ceiling and she could not find any light switch. The dark stone walls, cool temperature, the stillness of it all...

Not to mention the small shiver she had felt run down her spine when she moved closer to the large table against one of the walls.

Even before they married, Sansa knew Ramsay liked to hunt. – Most men in the North liked to hunt; even Father and Robb had occasionally gone hunting in her youth. But she had never wanted to be faced directly with what they actually did.

In a way she should be reassured by the fact that Ramsay did not force it on her either, letting her remain ignorant and not wanting to upset her. But she had not realised that he would actually bring his kills to the house. She had just assumed that he would keep the meats in the cabin he would use during his hunting trips with his friends and would only bring the ones that had already been skinned and prepared to the house, ready to be cooked and eaten.

However the few knives on the wall as well as on the work table – a couple of hunting knives and carving knives... and other smaller blades Sansa didn’t recognise – clearly showed that he would bring at least some game directly here, making her frown in unease -

 

-“ _Sansa_?”

The voice – a mere whisper – could have been a war cry by the way she jolted away from it in surprise.

Getting over her first shock, Sansa’s panic changed to wondering who had just spoken (- _who is in our house_?!). The voice was sounded dry and dead, but vaguely familiar: she was sure she had heard it before. Her eyes, getting more and more used to the darker room, squinted towards the source, trying to identifying the form she saw in the far corner.

The shadow’s voice became more panicked, louder, as it asked: “ _Why_ are you here?!... _Where_ is Master?”

As she came closer and he stared at her, Sansa noticed the brown eyes bulging out and it was then that she realized who was down here-

 _“-Theon?!_ ”

At the name, he sunk further into the wall, as if trying to get as much distance between them as possible. But there is nowhere to go. Possibly realizing his actions were futile, he started wailing as if he was being tortured, his head shaking from side to side:

“NO! N-not Theon! _Reek_... I am Reek! Only Reek!”

 

Taking a closer step, Sansa could now see him more clearly.

He was right, in a way. The person in front of her now did not resemble the boy she had once known. This creature seemed more like a mere shadow, a hellish copy of the old Theon: he looked like he had aged twenty years, his body in nearly corpse-thin, his brown eyes seem lifeless above hollow cheeks, not to mention the pasty white color of his skin and his hair looking brittle.

However Sansa could not feel any sorrow for his ghastly current state. Having gotten over her initial shock of realising _Theon_ was in front of her, _hate_ – _true_ _hate_ like she had never experienced before - enveloped her as she started to growl at him:

“You _murderer_!!? You murdered them!! You killed Bran and Rickon!! You killed my brothers... _your_ brothers... and burnt our house! How _could_ you?!... _How could you_?!?...”

At the outburst of fury, Sansa was not even aware of the tears that had silently started to pour down her cheeks, instead she was focused on coming closer to him and starting to hit him will all the force she could muster.

In the end, it was the sobbing and choking in her throat stopped her from continuing. Sansa didn’t even know how long she had been beating him for, her body feeling drained from the exertion or her emotions.

Exhaling gulps of air loudly, trying to catch her breath, and calm herself, it took Sansa a few moments to realise that he had been quietly repeating something as she had been striking him:

“They’re not dead... escaped... I didn’t kill them... They are alive...didn’t kill them...I let them escape from Euron... they are alive... not dead... I didn’t kill them... didn’t kill them... they escaped... I let them escape before Euron could get to them... they are alive... ”

 

When he realized that she had stopped hitting him, his whispers change back to more panic:

“You need to _leave_!! You need to leave before Master comes back!?... He will know... He finds out about _everything_...”

 

But Sansa did not care for his words, and instead asked for more information, this time a little more softly: “Where are Bran and Rickon?”

He shook his head, hysteria clearly taking over, he wailed even more:

“I don’t _know_!?... Theon did not know!...The Wall? White Harbor? Anywhere but _here_!... The boys were gone... Theon thought Master was going to kill him.... but he made me, Reek, instead... Then he told me what he would do: Master told me that he was going to have Winterfell... have what Theon had wanted... told me he was going to fu—marry Winterfell’s prize... I never thought... never realised it would be _you_... you need to go!... you need to go far away, where Master can’t _find_ you!”

 

Unfortunately, before Sansa could try and calm him or try and get more information from him, she heard the front door open and close, voices coming into the house. Looking back at Theon, he had clearly heard the noises as well – the fear was evident in his eyes.

Whispering, clearly fearing the voices would hear him, he begged her, his frail hands griping her own:

“You must _go_... you must _hide_... He _can’t_ know... Master _can’t_ know that _you_ were down _here_... that you _saw_ Reek.”

 

The sound of people walking and taking was becoming louder – obviously coming closer. Still being very much confused, but also worried from all she had just seen and heard (and the fact that Ramsay had told her to never come into this room), Sansa quickly decided it maybe would be best if she did hide. Swiftly rising from the wall, she went to the large closet door on one of the sides. Thankfully there was some space in one of the closets and she slipped inside, as she heard Theon quickly scramble, probably back to his earlier position on the floor.

Trying to breathe as silently as possible, she strained her ears for outside noise: the noise had definitely shifted to downstairs; the people (- _two_?-) were going through the first area of the basement.

Then the door opened and the clatter of shoes broke the stillness of the space.

 

As they came into the room, the two people all but ignored Theon on the floor, and instead they continued their discussion.

A woman’s petulant voice was heard clearly this time: “This is taking _too long_.”

From the closet, Sansa had quite a good view of most of the large room. Looking through the slit of the closet doors, Sansa studied her: she had definitely seen her before... She had been at their wedding... – _M-something_? _Marry_?...

The other person was Ramsay. Looking rather bored, his gaze going to at his ‘worktable’, rather pay attention to .... _M-person_ , he merely sighed: “Patience, Myranda...”

- _Ah... Myranda_...

“Where is your _darling_ wife anyway?”

“Off somewhere; searching for her sister I think...”

Myranda frowned: “Is it wise to let her go out so much?... To let her try and find her sister?... Shouldn’t you be _taking_ her _hunting_ soon?”

Sansa heard Theon give a small wine at the comment, but neither person gave him any pause. Instead Ramsay picked up a knife from the table, shrugging:

“Plans change.”

“ _Plans_ _change_?... what do you mean plans _change_?”

Ramsay grumbled, clearly not liking the fact that he had to repeat himself:

“Exactly what I said: ‘ _plans change_ ’... it’s not like I could go _hunting_ with her with that lawyer lurking about, that Luwin-fucker is so suspicious of me. He’s probably ensured that I would get nothing of the Stark fortune... so for the moment I am being the ever supportive husband. In any case, my new plan seems must better: get a few sons off her... get the fortune through them...”

Placing the knife back down, Sansa noticed a small gleam in his eye as he smirked: “Besides I think I like being _married_... My wife is _so_ keen to _please_... _so_ eager to _learn_...”

 

There was definitely venom in her voice when Myranda spat out:

“You think she’s beautiful.”

It was not actually a question, more a statement, but Ramsay still treated it as such: turning back to his _guest_ , Ramsay scoffed as he answered: “ _Of course_ I do, I’m not blind.”

Clearly the answer was definitely not the one Myranda wanted to hear. – On the other hand, even with everything that had happened, Sansa couldn’t help but still be stupidly pleased that her husband thought her beautiful.

Looking away from Myranda once more, Sansa noticed Ramsay rolling his eyes and give a small huff before moving closer to the irritated woman.

Grabbing her and pressing her back to his front, he growled softly in her ear: “You think she’s beautiful too...” – the action definitely having a reaction on Sansa, a pain running down her spine.

Myranda, for herself, tried to move away, sulking more. But his hands seemed to only get a firmer grip on her waist as he continued:

“... She really is _beautiful_ ; I really enjoyed our _wedding_ night. I enjoy _teaching_ her _things_... She is more of a wolf than I first believed... But don’t worry: I still have plenty of time for you. I don’t want to scare her away. Not _yet_ anyway...”

Before he nipped the skin under her ear, and then added:

“...As I said: she is the _perfect_ wife... she is eager to please me in any way: _never questions me_ ”, the force of his words and his grip increasing with every word, “... and who knows, maybe she might like to play my little games.”

Jaw clenching, clearly not liking anything of what he had just said, and not caring for his grip, Myranda retorted: “... Huuhh, well perhaps I’ll marry too: find myself a _nice, perfect husband_.”

Still holding on to her, Ramsay shifted his upper-body slightly away from her, trying to get a better look at her face; a note of incredulity on his own face. He scoffed, before he force-turned her around, before pressing her against the wall, enclosing her between his arms.

“ _You_...?... _Who_ are you going to marry?... _Yellow Dick_?”

She tried to slap him but the moment was so slow and lop-sided, he easily avoided it. Grabbing her hand and pressing both her arm and the rest of her body more firmly against the wall. Teeth clenched, his voice a little rougher as he stated: “You’re _mine_.”

The declaration reminded Sansa of the first time they had kissed; the first time he had said she was _his_.

But before she could reflect further on the continuing growing pain in her stomach, Ramsay continued to speak, looking straight into Myranda’s eyes:

“You are not going _anywhere_... And if I have to listen to anymore of your jealousy... well, let’s just say: jealousy bores me... you remember what happens to people who bore me?”

He gave a small wicked smile as he shook his head, reinforcing his previous statement: “You’re not going to bore me... are you, Myranda?”

Straightening herself against the wall, face still trying to look as calm as she clearly wasn’t, Myranda’s grimace slowly changed before she gave him a small smile and kissed him full on the mouth. The kiss deepened until she sunk her teeth hard into his lower lip.

She bit him so hard Ramsay reflexively pushed her away, as a few drops of blood dripped from his mouth. He looked at her in mix of disbelief, anger, and ... _lust(_?) whilst Myranda gave him a feral smile: “... _never_.”

He grinned, before grabbing her fiercely once more and forcing her back against his front. Myranda twisted her head so they continued to embrace savagely.

Grinding himself further into the woman, Ramsay gave another growled murmur: “... And who knows... if she ever finds that sister of hers... her sister is said to be the ‘ _wild’_ one... I think I would enjoy _taming_ her...”

 

 

Sansa had wanted to be sick during most of what she had witness.

How could she have been so stupid... so naive... both Ramsay and his ... lover had played her for a fool... and clearly she did not know her husband at all. No the man in front of her now – all bestial and barbaric - was the _true_ Ramsay... the one he had yet to show her.

But at the mention of Arya, something _snapped_.

 _No_! She would not let either of them near her _sister_!

 

She slowly – and very silently – crouched to the ground and lifted her right leg’s jeans. Not wanting to look down, her hands felt the holster attached to her ankle, as she carefully removed the gun from it. - Father’s old war pistol, the one Luwin had encouraged her to keep with her at all times after the fire at Winterfell.

Right now Sansa could not be more grateful for the older man and his constant need to try and protect her and help her in any way.

 

Gun in hand, she stood up once more, before trying to breathe a few calming breaths.

Then she slowly opened the door and moved into the room.

The two lovers had their backs to her, clearly still very much engrossed in their ferocious... _whatever_ they were actually doing now, that they didn’t notice.

 

Ready, gun raised, Sansa cleared her throat, and said as calmly as possible:

“Sorry to interrupt.” – _A lady’s armour is her courtesy_...

At the statement, the two lovers ripped apart – or more specifically: Ramsay more or less flung Myranda away from him, as he turned around to meet the source.

His eyes went from alert and alarmed to shocked and wary, definitely confused by the presence of his _wife_ :

“Sansa!”

With a sense of coolness that Sansa didn’t know she had (-probably a similar one to the one that had forced Arya to run and try and find Rickon and Bran when Winterfell was burning-) she replied:

“Hello, _sweet_ husband...”before she indicated Myranda with the gun, “care to make introductions?... I don’t think I was ever properly introduced to your _friend_... though I remember her being at _our_ wedding.”

Ramsay raised his palms, as Sansa saw him turn back into the role of ‘her husband’, his voice becoming more pleasant his features less harsh: “She is no one... this is nothing... doesn’t mean anything... she doesn’t mean anything...be reasonable: I love you. I am devoted to _you_.”

He was an excellent actor, she would give him that. But eyeing Myranda, Sansa couldn’t help but give the most unconvincing forced laugh: “... yes... I can see you _devotion_ to me...”

Instead of listening to Ramsay possible reply, Sansa then turned most of her focus on Myranda and stated:

“Seeing as my husband seems to have forgotten your name... or at least doesn’t think it – or you – are important to mean something, how about we ladies introduce ourselves direc-”

- _BAM_!

Whilst she had been talking, Sansa had noticed Ramsay eyeing his work table. However before he had made even the smallest step towards it, Sansa had pulled a warning shot from the gun; just left of where he had been about to move.

“Now, now Ramsay... how about you move away from all those pretty knives and come closer to your _lover_.”

 

The husband facade fading, his eyes narrowed on her, but his hands raised: “You wouldn’t shoot me, Sansa.”

“I wouldn’t?”

“Kill me and what are you left with: a dead husband and a very tortured- tormented Theon Greyjoy. Theon Greyjoy who a couple of years ago burnt your manor and killed your siblings.

People might be a little sympathetic that you had wanted to extract revenge yourself – he did kill the rest of your family... but torturing him for all those years and then shooting your husband who had been utterly devoted to you... at best they would think you had lost sense of reality, gone mad... at worst: the chair... are you ready to gamble on that Sansa?”

Sansa gave him a sweet smile, even as the words continued to sink in and her face was definitely becoming paler:

“You’re right: I won’t shoot you...” before she turned the gun towards Myranda: “I should shoot her.”

“Stop Sansa!... don’t point your gun at her... she is nothing...”

 

However, unlike Ramsay, the woman was clearly not perturbed by Sansa’s threats, just merely rolling her eyes and taking a step closer to Sansa:

“Come one Ramsay... She’s not going to shoot... she’s too sweet: she probably wouldn’t be able to kill a fly...”

Looking at Sansa like as if she was something amusing, Myranda then added:

“...but she did ruin your surprise. She went into the room all on her own, without permission...”

Giving a disgusting glance at the simpering form on the floor, she added:

“...she found _him_ all on her own. You might be wrong Ramsay: she is obviously not the _perfect_ little wife you believe her to be if she went in here... _Tut-tut-tut_ : what are we going to do with her now?-”

-But before anyone could reply any kind of response, Theon jumped on Myranda, grabbing her by the waist-

“-AHHH! What the?!”

 

Taking in what had just happened, Ramsay screeched, this time in definite fury: “ _Reek!?!_ What are you doing?! Stop!?”

Then, clearly not liking that his ‘ _pet’_ was not obeying him, Ramsay jumped onto the mass fighting Myranda.

The whole situation was a complete mess: Theon mainly attacking Myranda... Ramsay mainly trying to control Theon,...all three clawing at each other... screeching...

Sansa tried to follow what exactly was happening as much as possible, without getting any closer, until she noticed Myranda detaching herself from the two men. Evidently the other woman thought that Ramsay would have the upper hand and would not need any help as she stood up, a bit unstably, bruised and battered, before starting to advance on Sansa.

Sansa warned her: “Don’t come any closer Myranda, I _will_ shoot you.”

Disbelief was etched in every line of the woman’s face as she scoffed: “Of course you are... Ramsay’s _sweet_ , _pretty_ , _perfect_ wife who won’t let him truly fuck her, is going to shoot me... really? Let me laugh!”

A maniacal laugh _did_ actually burst out of the woman before she lunged at Sansa-

 _-BAM_!

 _-BAM_!

A dark spray covered the wall...

 _Red_ covered the wall...

 

Two shots. That’s all it took.

The first had merely grazed Myranda arm, Sansa being caught off guard by the sudden action, but the second...

... The second had clearly hit its mark: Myranda crumpled to the floor. Or more specifically, her body did: she was dead, a bullet in the head, with a big hole missing in the back.

If Sansa was being truthful she would confess that she had been aiming for the other woman’s stomach, to injure her, stop her as she advanced – but definitely _not_ kill her.

But she was in too much of a state of shock to think on that right now:

Instead, her ears were buzzing; the blood had drained from her face; her knees definitely weaker; her hands were covered in blood as they started to shake...

She had _killed_...

She had _killed_ someone...

She was a _murderer_...

 

In her panicked state, it took her a little while longer and all the energy her body could muster up before Sansa was brought back to her senses and started to realise that both men had stopped struggling at the sound of the gun, before Ramsay had given a couple of fierce punches into Theon’s stomach.

 

Sansa could now hear Theon whimpering in the background – not too different to a dog trying to recover after a brutal fight- but her main focus was on Ramsay. She watched as he slowly stood up, and wiped the blood from the cuts on his brow and lip.

His eyes went from her own to Myranda’s lifeless open ones and back again to hers.

Sansa could tell he was trying to calm down but there was a definite growl in his voice: “Sansa... put the gun _down_...”

 

Her hand was definitely still shaking, but she kept on gripping the gun for dear life.

Sansa did not know what Ramsay would do...

She was his wife...

But she had just found out about this room, about what he had done to Theon, about his lover...

... the lover who she had just killed.

 

At the lack of a response, Ramsay opened his mouth once more as he took another small step closer to her and –

-“ _ARRrrggghhhhh!!?!_!!”

 

Sansa had barely registered that Theon had taken a knife – the kitchen knife that had started all this – and had plunged it deep into Ramsay’s leg, before he screeched:

“ _RUUUNNNNN SANSA!!! Fucking RUUUNNNNN!!!..._ ”

 

Ramsay growled something in response, but Sansa didn’t stay to find out.

 

Instead she took Theon’s words as gospel and she _ran_ :

She _ran_ out of the room - slamming the door as she went...

 _Ran_ up the stairs - locking the cellar’s heavier door...

 _Ran_ into the bedroom and grabbed as much stuff as possible and threw it into a bag...

Before finally running back down (hearing banging coming from the cellar door and Ramsay yelling something) and running to her car...

 

 


	34. Chapter 33 - ... just a charming reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A spousal conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another tough chapter to write. Hope you like :)

 

The man walking towards her was nothing like the one she remembered leaving in the cellar, bleeding and crying out all those years ago. The only thing that recalled the _incident_ was the slight limp that her husband was clearly trying to conceal. – Even if Sansa had not paid attention at the time to which leg Theon had stabbed, she knew the limp had been caused from that event.

He was even just a distant copy of the Ramsay she had married and believed that she had loved.

No – there was no more pretence in his eyes: they both now knew his true nature, so what was the point in hiding it. This was the true Ramsay. The one he had yet to show her. The one she had only seen a glimpse of that fateful day.

 

His pace was slow as he moved towards her; calculating, like a predator studying his prey before the kill.

But she was no prey... she was a _Stark_ , a _wolf_. A wolf he had only seen a small amount of. If she was to die tonight she would make sure her death would have purpose and that would not it be eclipsed into nothing: the phone was still turned on – still connected - Sansa could only hope Luwin was recording and would have enough to convict Ramsay.

 

He was only a mere step away from her when he finally came to a halt.

From this small space separating them, Sansa could see the coldness of his eyes, the blue tin of tired lines under them, the few small red botches on his ever-pale skin ... it was as if she was finally seeing the monster he was.

... How had she ever been attracted to this man? Think herself in love with him?

She couldn’t help but wonder if it actually reassured her that she had never loved the true monster, just an image that he had portrayed to her... Even now, Sansa wasn’t sure.

 

The grin present on his face grew as he noticed her study him. He probably though she was wondering how he would kill her. Sansa honestly did not care.

 

There was another pause, him mirroring her scrutiny, before Ramsay proceeded: he slowly raised his hand high, bringing it towards her head, before moving his fingers over the crown of her hair. The touch was so faint that part of Sansa wondered if he was actually touching her.

On the other hand, she had been so sure it had been coming that she couldn’t help the small flinch when the tip of his fingers actually did touch her.

At the reaction, she noticed him smirk. - He relished this... he loved the torment, the power he believed he had over her.

 

Silently his hand continued to slide slowly down the length of hair till he reached the tip, taking several strands between his fingers. His eyes moved with the movement.

“Still as beautiful as ever, but this will not do. I much prefer you natural colouring. _Crimson-red_ suits you perfectly.”

When Sansa didn’t say anything, she noticed his lips twitch once more.

Ramsay fed on her defiance – she would pay for it soon.

 

“When I first heard of you, I half expected a fat, bearded beast, not much different to my father’s latest wife. You know how pleased I was when I saw you. You made me very happy... I can honestly say you are still the most gorgeous thing I have seen.

Then, when I first started seeing you, I thought our relationship would be pretty boring and tiresome... you seemed just a little _too_ sweet, _too_ innocent but then you seemed so eager to please me, let me teach you all those things... and every now again a bit of that she-wolf I have come to crave would come out. I relished those moments... coxing them out of you... I eager for you to let it out and then I would be the one to tame you.

But I never, in a thousand years, would have imagined how _interesting_ you would make our marriage: you have made these last few years anything but boring, haven’t you...”

The smile lessened as his brows came together before he added:

“Though I must confess that I was quite upset when you killed Myranda. I had planned on enjoying her a little more before I took her out for a hunt... She was getting jealous – I don’t do _jealous_. In any case you are _mine_ ; it wasn’t for her to define what I did with what is _mine_. But you took away that amusement from me and my bitches.”

As he had been talking, the hand that had been holding her hair had moved slowly to her neck. The grip closed the smallest amount around her neck, tightening for the briefest of moments the two times he said ‘ _mine_ ’.

This time Sansa hadn’t flinched.

But he didn’t seem disappointed by the lack of reaction, or by her continued silence. Instead his smile came back, as his eyes shinned once more into her own.

His fingers still surrounded her neck - his thumb lightly stroking her skin – he could feel her pulse beating stronger than normal.

 

“Forgive me; let’s not talk of such upsetting matters. What _has_ my darling wife been up to in my absence?”

It was more than a pleasant inquiry – there was a definite threat behind it.

 

But Sansa had no interest in playing his morbid game. Instead she finally spoke, looking straight at him:

“Why don’t you just kill me?”

There was a small flicker in his eyes, so brief that she nearly missed it. – Yes, a part of him wanted to kill her... punish her but Ramsay was smarter than that. She should have known: he had planned much a greater scheme with Myranda all those years ago, it was more than likely that he would have a whole new plan to do with Sansa now.

“Why would I want to kill you?... you are _my wife_.”

A small smile came to her own lips when she state what he already knew:

“Of course, how silly of me: why would you kill me? Of course you wouldn’t kill me: you need me. I think the last version of my will goes something like this:

_‘I leave the whole of the Stark and Tully fortune to be evenly distributed between the following charities. Each of the estates, in the North as well as in the Riverlands, are to become homes for orphans who did not have the same chance as me to recover from their own personal tragedies - with the added necessary amount of money to be able to run them. To my **darling** **husband** , I leave him my shares of Bolton Timber, as well as my half of our house in Wintertown: – he has so many fond memories of it, I would **hate** not deprive him of them.’”_

 

His grip had tightened a small amount during her speech. However, Ramsay seemed to be very much in control of his actions; Sansa did not doubt that from his previous experiences, he knew exactly how much pressure he could force on her body without leaving a mark.

 

No matter, she still wanted to test his resolve further:

“You can’t hit me either, can you? And you can’t just keep me to yourself. If you are going to get me to change my will, I need to be very much alive and in the best of shape. A statement would not do – to announce that Sansa Stark wa-“

Ramsay growled: “- _Bolton_.” – _His calm front obviously has a few cracks..._

Without looking the least bit contrite, Sansa replied:

“My apologies: a statement would not do to say that Sansa Stark- _Bolton_ (- _noticed his eyes shine in irritation at her small defiance_ -) has returned after nearly five years. People would want to see me, question me, check on me and my well-being... probably chastise me for being so foolish in my lack of concern for how much them worried about me, with no news during my travels through Essos... It _is_ a shame to acknowledge the fact that our friends would not just take your word that your wife was alive and well.”

It was then that she added as if she had just thought about it now:

“Oh! but wait - Mr Luwin is still alive, isn’t he?... Of course he is. Probably making things even harder for you; he was always the most thorough employee of Starks Industries, as well as when he was Father’s and then Robb’s lawyer. – He would accept nothing less than my physical presence in front of him with two legs, two arms, skin not marred... – those pesky lawyers can be quite insistent checking on their clients’ wellbeing.”

 

The rage in his eyes shined so clearly the message he was thinking: he wanted to do more than just hit her.

But the fury once more was toned down, as Sansa noticed his demeanour ‘ _soften’_ :

“My darling Sansa, you wound me, as I said before: you are my wife. All I plan to do is be your ever loving husband. I plan to take care of you from now on. You will continue to be _my_ _primary_ concern.”

– _In other words: ‘you will never leave my side, be out of my sight’_.

 

After giving a final small squeeze on her neck, he took her chin between his fingers and brought Sansa’s face close to his own, before pressing his lips on her own, turning it into a forceful kiss.

Although the kiss hard, bruising even, Sansa refused to open her lips to his attack.

When he finally moved back from her, his hand moved away to be placed on her shoulders, moving them down her arms. The action could have been thought a gentle caress, what a loving husband would give his wife, but was really Ransay caging Sansa more.

“... All I want is a loving caring family... you, me and any little pups that are to come.”

With a maddening grin, he reinforced his statement:

“– And what better way to celebrate our reunion, after all these years, but by making that son we dreamed about so long ago...? Everyone remembers how much you wanted children; having lost your own family under tragic circumstances, you would definitely want to have a new family.”

 

_A child_...

It was then that she remembered the brief statement he had said to Myranda about getting the Stark fortune through their possible children.

 

“And even though I know you want nothing more than be a dutiful wife and have our children, I’ll give you more of an incentive:... do you remember Reek?”

Sansa frowned: “Reek?”

“My pet.”

_Reek_ \- of course the name he had given Theon once he had done all those things to him.

“Theon-“

Anger flashed in his eyes, his hands gripping her arms more tightly: “ _Reek_! Not Theon...”

However the rage only showed momentarily. Ramsay soon regained some of his control as he sighed:

“You are mistaken my dear: Theon died not long after the tragic fire that killed your sister... Unfortunately, Reek proved not as faithful as I had hoped... I had to put him down as well. I accept nothing less but _obedience_.

Anyway, that’s not what I want to talk about. Before he died he did inform me of something interesting, that will make you happy: Theon Greyjoy did not kill your brothers. He took them out of the fire and sent them out into the night before his uncle Euron got to them. Is not the best of news?”

Mustering as much of the acting that she had done in the last years, Sansa tried to stop herself from paling too much. Yet, the possibility of Ramsay doing anything to her brothers was torment enough for her to be unable to stop the stammer in her voice:

“Bran and Rickon...?... they’re a-alive?”

“Yes my sweet wife... I wanted to have this gift for you for when you came back to me. They seem so happy that I am your husband. I think they would be so quite disappointed for you, if you didn’t have those children you dream of.”

 

She could call him on his possible bluff. Ramsay was not one to share: if he had found them he would keep them hidden, make sure no one knew of their existence. However the fact that he didn’t show her proof that he had her brothers could mean he might not have found them yet.

Not that it mattered: he still planned to rape her. Her brothers only added the possible threat of hurting them... torturing them as he had done with Theon.

 

Clearly loving the dread shaking through her, Ramsay continued:

“Of course, there is also your lawyer and that cousin of yours...” - _Jon_

Sansa forced herself to frown once more, whilst she hoped that Ramsay took the increase in heart rate as fear for Luwin and confusion for ‘ _cousin’_ : “Cousin?”

Ramsay smiled at the question: “Yes...: your dear cousin Jon. I have not been the only one frantic to find you, my dear. It would seem you have a cousin very eager to meet you. He has been most helpful in trying to find you these last few years. Reduced some of the heavy lifting me and my friends had to do.

Scowling, he added: “Though I must say I was quite disappointed when he called Mr Luwin to inform him that he had seen you but failed to call _me_ , your very distraught _husband_.”

Sansa’s heart jumped at the comment: “Seen me?”

His grin widened as he looked into her widening eyes:

“Yes my lovely wife... you are a much better liar than you were at the start of our marriage, but you won’t be able to deceive me so easily. – Even before Damon informed me that he had found you, I was given conformation that you were in Kings Landing:

Imagine my surprise when travelling in Braavos, trying to locate you, when I was emailed the recording of a very interesting conversation between your lovely family lawyer and your cousin, the former saying that he not only knew where you where but that he had actually met you earlier that same evening. - And here I thought my lovely wife was still doing her tour of Essos, as she had stated.

Thankfully Damon was in the area and looked into the allegation, and even had dear cousin Jon followed. I must say your cousin has had a very curious last few days: Damon informed me that he and a few of his friends have been all around the capital before they went to where one can assume you lived these last few months.”

With every word, the threat came through loud and clear: she did anything out of line from now on in their marriage; he could and would hurt the ones she cared about. Even if he didn’t have Bran and Rickon – something she doubted more and more, especially since he had give any proof of them and the fact that he had resorted to add more people to the mix/ to his threat – he did have ways to hurt both Jon and Luwin. Jon hopefully would have his Targaryen family to protect him to some extent, but Luwin did not have an all powerful family to watch his back.

And there was always the chance that he would find Bran and-or Rickon in the future. He had found her and she had been intentionally hiding from him. Moreover, he might even use her in some way to coax them out of where ever they were hiding.

The only thing that Sansa was reassured by somewhat was that Ramsay didn’t seem to know about Arya.

 

From his smile, he clearly thought he had won, that he had her beat.

 

_No!_ \- Ramsay had to be stopped. He was a monster - _her_ monster – she had to stop him from ruining other people’s life.

 

The problem was that he hadn’t said anything compromising enough.

To be able to stop him, Ramsay would have to do that would help in convicting him to many years of jail.

This is what she had feared, but had assumed would have to happen: she needed to die so that they would be safe. – She need for him to kill her, or at least torture her to the extent that Luwin would be able to have enough to convict him.

 

For that all she just needed to do was to _anger_ him. – Anger him to the point of him loosing control.

 

The smile that came on her face was a clear indication that Ramsay was caught off guard when she spoke next:

The smile on her face caught Ramsay off guard, that much was evident. She only hoped what she was about to ay would have an even greater effect on him, important enough for him to lose his current control and exact the revenge he had definitely been planning in his mind for the last five years.

“Of course Ramsay, I wish nothing more than be a dutiful wife, with a child, watching him grow. Hopefully he will be the image of his father.”

Even though definitely not the reaction he had been hoping for, Ramsay still smiled at her response. – He believed his victory was settled.

He moved closer, as if to kiss her once more as:

“I am so happy to hear that, my darling Sansa.”

However, before he could press his lips on hers, Sansa placed her own fingers on his mouth. Ramsay frowned at the action, inciting Sansa to explain:

“I just have a small concern of my own, Ramsay.”

Still frowning, he gave a small nod for her to continue:

“How can I be sure you will be the devoted husband that you claim?”

“Sansa, I have already stated that you will be my primary concern... you are my she-wolf... how could you even question me? My devotion to you?”

Bringing some of the anger she had once felt at Ramsay’s betrayal, Sansa retorted:

“Really Ramsay? Do I really need I remind you that you cheated on me with a common whore?”

His face cleared into understanding:

“Ahhh _Myranda_...I thought that issue had been settled Sansa. She meant nothing to me... just a small amusement. Though I feel I should also remind you I do not like jealousy.”

“Jealousy?... this is nothing to do with jealousy, Ramsay. As you keep on repeating, you are my _husband_. I was not jealous, I was angry that my _husband_ cheated on me - with a common trollop, no less. Have you no shame; you could have at least gone for someone own our social level.

I don’t care what you do in your own times with your friends Ramsay – I would never question you in how you want to amuse yourself, but I do care of things that affect my marriage. Taking that whore to your bed, meant that in some way our marriage was a failure... somehow I had failed you... or that you considered me no better than a whore...”

“Of course not my sweet... our marriage was perfect... it will only get better... all my attention will be on you. You did not fail me: you were perfect.”

“Oh, I know.”

Ramsay frowned: “You do?”

Sansa rolled her eyes as: “Yes. Now I know that the problem was not me: it was _you_.”

“Me?”

“Yes, I needed some time away - I’m sorry that it ended up being quite a long time - but I thought long and hard of how I might have not see it... how I could have failed you... all the things you showed me, taught me; I was a willing student... you can’t deny that..”

Still very much confused, frowning, Ramsay confirmed somewhat sceptically: “Of course not...”

“Well, then it came to me: maybe I just hadn’t been _enough_... not good enough... So I tested my theory, but it corrected my doubts: I was definitely good enough, maybe even too much to handle. It was _you_ who had failed _us_.”

Ramsay’s face had darkened as she had continued, he growled out:

“What do you mean: you tested your theory?”

“Well I slept with someone else as well, of course. But he reassured me that I had **_no_** failings what-so-ever in that department.”

Fury was definitely shinning in his eyes as he gritted through clenched teeth:

“You let someone _fuck_ you?”

However, before Sansa could confirm her previous statement, he grabbed her forcefully; his teeth still clenched, and pressed his quivering enraged body against her own, as he growled in her ear:

“But wait, before you answer me, know this: You are _mine_. - _No one_ else can have what is _mine_.

If a man has _kissed_ you, I will rip his tongue out and make him eat it _in front of you_.

If a man has _touched_ you, I will cut off his fingers one by one and make him eat them _in front of you_.

If a man has _fucked_ you, I will cut his cock and balls and feed them to him _in front of you_.”

He shifted slightly, turning to look straight into her eyes, as he repeated his question:

“So... tell me, my sweet beautiful _wife_... have you really let someone kiss you?... touch you?... _fuck_ you?”

 

There it was, the anger she needed, the anger that would bring on his wrath... he would punish her... torture her... most definitely try and find Stannis (-not that she would ever give his name-)... but hopefully by then Luwin would have enough of her screams on the phone for a conviction...

 

Sansa shrugged as if he was a mere fly.

Looking squarely at him, she gave a small brazen smile:

“Oh Ramsay, I do remember how you don’t like people lying to you, and as you said before you can still tell when I am lying. I confess: I am an atrocious liar. So I’ll tell you the _truth_ :

_Yes_. I let another man _kiss_ me, _touch_ me, _fuck_ me... but he did more than just that... We did _much more_ than just that.

On the first night I stripped in front of him fully before he took me in his bed, then against the wall, before a second time in his bed- me on top that time. His long... large... cock... filled me to the _hilt_.

Our second night together, we didn’t even reach the bed: he fucked me hard against the carpet, too busy _fucking_ ever inch of me, that we both forgot about the meal around us, dirtying our naked flesh.

He was more than _pleased_ by my abilities that he insisted to keep me longer by his side.

Not that I was not satisfied by his eagerness and his own prowess. Let’s not forget to mention the other ways he pleased me: not long into our affair, he gave me a very lovely present. To show my gratitude I took him in my _mouth_... remember how I never let you do that all those years ago. Did Myranda suck your cock? - His was definitely a _mouthful_...”

Ramsay was now shaking in fury - if there was still any sense left in Sansa she would had shut up ages ago - but she would not stop, could not stop: this was her small victory before he destroyed her.

 

Her smile vicious, she slowly placed her hands on her stomach, making the next words more damaging- reinforcing her doom:

“But you haven’t heard the best part... I might actually be carrying _his_ child right _now_. Now that would be something wouldn’t it? – I would finally have that child I have been dreaming of for all these years.”

 


	35. Chapter 34 - ... just a charming meet amongst acquaintances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis getting desperate/frantic in his search to find Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhh I'm back!!!! finally! - Soooo soo sorry for the delay on this story but I have finally (at least) a draft for all remaining chapters (some a little more final than than others) of this story! Finally seeing the end of the tunnel!!! WOOHHOOO!!
> 
> Thank you all who have liked/loved/commented this story so far, and thank you for your patience with me.  
> I really hope that these last few chapters will be worth the wait for you :)

 

( _Wednesday_ )

 

 

Stannis, although groggy, continued to look through his phone; look through any available information about ‘ ** _Sansa Stark_ ’**.

 

He was supposed to be resting; on Davos’ insistence. – Well, he _had_ rested. He had only managed to sleep a couple of hours or so before he had woken up in a jolt, but he _had_ slept.

And yet, although having slept, he stayed in his assigned bedroom: there was no point in going out of it, Davos – or even Jon – would only force him back inside the room, insist he get ‘ _more rest_ ’ as they waited for news... Thankfully neither of the other two men had thought to take Stannis’ phone from him before forcing him into the bedroom that had been put at his disposal.

 

Since their meeting with Mr Luwin, yesterday had been more or less the same: one of Jon or Davos’ men would come with a possible new lead based on the information they already had and any added by the Northern lawyer, Davos revisiting Miss Shae Killi at her apartment (-insist Stannis remain behind -), Jon, Stannis and Luwin following up on some other information...

Frustratingly, after a lot of waiting, calls and running around most of the leads had proved _fruitless_.

It had been past one in the morning when Davos had ‘ _decreed’_ that they all needed some sleep. Jon had concurred that he needed to go home to his apartment for some rest, as well as reassure his fiancée (– the final statement inciting a rush of envy run through Stannis that he couldn’t go to his penthouse to be greeted by Sansa). In any case, by then, the older Mr. Luwin had already returned to his hotel room a few hours ago, and most of their men were also in much need of some shuteye.

Of course, that was when Davos had reminded Stannis that Robert – although still in crutches - was now in Kings Landing, and had decided to join Stannis and settle himself in the King’s Gate Hotel penthouse; – most assuredly as a mix of going back to his usual penthouse and in attempt to corner Stannis for gossip.

\- Going by the several disruptions throughout the day, in the form of calls from the other two Baratheons or from BI Tower, both his brothers were clearly wanting answers, and were ready to pester anyone to get them. Unfortunately for both Robert and Renly, Stannis had little care about their demands, hadn’t even bothered to look through the several unread text messages or listen to their voice messages. Even now, he had no idea as to what exactly Davos has told them and Justin Massey about Stannis not coming to the office for the second day running... or what he had been up to these last few days.

So, the penthouse no longer a viable option, Jon had graciously welcomed Stannis to use his guest room, to, at the very least, take a much needed shower and change clothes. - Stannis had actually ended up falling on his bed asleep still just in his towel, the cheer physical and mental exhaustion of the last few days having taken a toll on him.

 

Waking up, Stannis had soon resumed trying to go through all past information about Sansa, trying to find any possible clue as to where she might have gone next. He had first gone over every conversation they ever had, re-listened to the recordings (- which he might have demanded quite forcefully the day before to Davos-), as well as Sansa’s phone conversations with Miss Shae Killy.

He had also tried to think of possible destinations: it would seem more likely that she was still in Westeros, as from what both Miss Killi as well as what they found in her tiny apartment suggested that she didn't seem to have the resources to be able fly or go by boat to Essos… except, possibly, as a stowaway.

 

All which had now led him to look up ‘Sansa Stark’ in the internet search engine tab.

To be completely honest, part of him was still getting round all the things Jon and Mr Luwin had told him; most especially the fact that _his_ ‘Alayne’ _was_ the ‘Sansa Stark’...

_... Sansa Stark_ , currently sole heiress to the Stark fortune, as well as a hefty Tully inheritance and a considerable number of properties not only in the North, but also in the Riverlands and in the Vale...

... _Sansa Stark_ , who had been missing for over four years, last believed to have gone on a tour of Essos...

(... _Sansa Stark_ , the niece of the woman Robert had been pestering to anyone who would listen about, for the last thirty years...)

 

During his research, Stannis came across a few pictures of her and her family. He had already seen the group picture of her and her siblings that they had found in her flat as well as a picture of her older brother and her mother, but here the photos seemed endless: a lot of the family as a whole – before and after the father’s death - , a few of the several family funerals that followed one another through the years (the last pictures showing Sansa alone), he also found a few pictures of her in her youth, of a happier time...

However the most recent photos – the last time she had been photographed - were from her _wedding day_...

... Stannis felt his grip tightened around the phone, unable to stop torturing himself from looking at a young, just-turned-eighteen, beautiful Sansa Stark in a white dress. She seemed a whole different person to the one in previous pictures at her younger siblings funeral... so striking, so carefree, so joyful, her smile radiating...

... of course most of the pictures also contained the _groom_...

... the man who had sucked up all the sun and only damaged further the gorgeous woman standing next to him...

Even if Stannis hadn’t known all the things about Ramsay Bolton that both Jon and Luwin had told him, as well as the start of the information Davos had already gathered about the man; staring down at the pictures, Stannis knew he would have only ever felt contempt, if not more, for Ramsay Bolton. – There was a certain gleam in the man’s eye that made Stannis want to continually punch him to the ground until the Bolton bastard's face – and that gleam – disappeared.

 

Thankfully Stannis' darkening thoughts were interrupted by sounds coming from the other side of his bedroom door.

Loosening his jaw muscles and his fist, Stannis looked from his phone to the door as the noises grew louder. Glancing towards the window, he could note the light coming through the curtains...

...Relief rushing through Stannis that he might finally be ‘let out of his confinement’; he looked once more at his phone screen, this instance to check the time: **_09:06_**

_Finally_! – Past nine would definitely be an acceptable time for him to join the others in continuing to try and find Sansa.

 

Jumping from the bed, quickly slipping into the change of clothes that Davos had had brought from the penthouse, within six minutes Stannis was opening the bedroom door and moving down to the living room space.

Sun shining though the length of bay windows, he blinked a few times getting use to the excess light before noting to his frustration that both Davos and Jon were already up and neither had thought to get him! However, it also seemed that none of the two had noticed Stannis’ arrival yet: Davos was at the table, on the phone (- _hopefully a new lead_ -) and Jon was back to Stannis, at the opened front door, greeting a rather large man.

His gaze following as the two men continued to greet each other and Jon leading the other man into his flat, Stannis couldn’t help but be slightly surprised that Jon was already having a guest this early in the morning, and could only hope - one more - that this person was here to help find Sansa!

Regrettably, his hopes dashing somewhat, Stannis really didn’t see how this man could possibly be of help: although _big_ \- taking quite a lot of the available space - this guest didn’t seem imposing at all, more like he would rather fade in the background... a certain meekness to the man that did not inspire or reassure Stannis one bit.

 

His scrutiny was soon however interrupted by Miss Ygritte coming from the kitchen and ‘ _Good morning_ ’ him and giving a quite irritatingly joyful smile (- _there is nothing to smile about_!). A curt nod in response, the young woman proceeded to ask Stannis if he would like a cup of coffee. Giving her a gruff ‘ _thank you’_ , Stannis silently wondered if his voice was sore from lack of sleep or from him raising his voice slightly at Janos Slynt the previous day.

By this time Jon and his guest had move further into the shared space and had noticed Stannis. Coming closer, Jon introduced the two: “Stannis – this is Maester Sam Tarly. Sam, Stannis Baratheon.”

Although recognising the last name and being a little bit surprised that this timid man was Randall Tarly’s son, Stannis had to force himself to give a tight nod to the maester and hold back his irritation of entertaining guests and other tedious nonsense instead of focussing on finding _Sansa_! – _This is not the time for socialising!_

\- Stannis wanted to question Jon if he had received any news or leads from his Northern friends at Castle Black Securities!

Mercifully though, call finished – and possibly having noted Stannis’ darkening mood - Davos quickly greeted Maester Tarly, before he and Stannis were able to concentrate on _Sansa_ rather than entertain useless, ‘ _de trop’_ guests.

 

It was several minutes later, Stannis having already finished the cup of coffee Miss Ygritte had brought him as well as the piece of toast Davos had basically forced down his throat, Davos was now in the middle of explaining what his friend-contact Sallador had been doing from the early hours of the morning, when they were interrupted by Jon letting out a deafening exclamation that Robert would be proud of:

“ _WHAT?!_ ”

 

Ignoring Stannis’ possible huff for the frustrating disruption, Jon continued to stare at Sam Tarly as he demanded him to repeat himself: “What did you _just_ say?!”

Turned red, mostly likely from his friend was attacking him, as the young maester stammered: “ _Her_...” pointing to someone on the laptop in front of Jon, “I-I re-recognise her:... I-I saw her - _met_ her, yesterday...”

Something in Stannis – most likely Jon’s current animated behaviour - made him continue to listen in on the conversation (- even if most of him wanted to return to what Davos had been saying).

As for Jon, he all but barked a succession of questions at his friend:

“ _When_?! _Where_?! _HOW_?! Did you see her?!? Sam: you need to tell me _everything_!?! _E-VE-RY-THING_ you remember and know about her!!?”

At the continual verbal assault, Sam Tarly’s body shook slightly, before stuttering a response:

“I met her y-yesterday, Mom introduced her as ‘ _Aly_ ’... she was cleaning... she opened the door to me... she is my mother’s cleaning lady. well was...”

_Aly._

At the mention of ‘ _Aly’_ , Stannis felt a jolt run through him; the memory of Sansa Stark-Alayne Stone first introducing herself to him coming to the forefront of his mind:

_“I’m Stannis Baratheon.”_

_“Nice to meet you. I’m Alayne Stone.”_

_“Is that your working name?”_

_“That’s what they call me. Or ‘Aly’, if you prefer.”_

Then remembering a few days later, her sided comment that she ‘ _was a pro at cleaning’_ and, even later, Davos informing him that Shae Killi had revealed that she had met Sansa by her being Miss Killi’s cleaning lady...

 

He wasn’t entirely sure exactly what happened, how it happened, but something _snapped_ in Stannis...

...and the next thing he knew he had the rather heavy Samwell Tarly out of the chair he had been occupying and instead pressed against the nearest wall, Stannis growl-commanded through gritted teeth:

“Tell me _everything_ you know about _‘Aly’_!”

He could feel the other man shaking in his grip, note his mouth gaping like a fish, his eyes bulging out of his sockets, the fear in them, looking at Stannis like he was about to eat him alive.

 

Frustratingly, before the exasperating man was able to find his voice again, Stannis felt both Jon and Davos gently, but still quite firmly, ease Stannis’ hold and force him to let go of the maester. - Davos actually had the audacity to huff-order him:

“Calm down Stannis! Stop attacking every person that might have information about Miss Stark!”

However instead of grumbling at his friend, Stannis decided he had more pressing things to worry about: namely _Sam Tarly_ and his possible information on Sansa... that is, if the man could actually find the ability to speak!

_\- We don’t have time for all this crap! Just start fucking talking_!!?!

 

Teeth grinding, Stannis tried to hold back his irritation as Jon helped the shaking man back into his chair and said in a calm voice – one Stannis would associate with a mother-hen coddling young children:

“Sam, tell us – _please_ – what you remember of this ‘ _Aly’_.”

Though still shaking slightly and eyeing Stannis worriedly, Sam Tartly, thankfully, started talking:

“S-she was my mother’s cleaning lady. W-when I arrived she was the one to open the door ... she was finishing preparing the guest rooms for Gilly and I’s arrival, a-as well as Dickon and Eleanor and my father’s... Yesterday was her last day: my mother asked her if she could work on Saturday but Aly said she couldn’t: said she was leaving Kings Landing with her partner for the festivities...”

The last words earned a growl from Stannis, to soon be followed by a glare from Davos.

Shifting his chair a tiny bit further from Stannis, Sam Tarly thankfully soon continued, with Jon urging him on:

“Sam: did she say where she was going?... did she say anything to give a clue as to her destination?”

“No... not really... said it was a ‘ _surprise’_... b-but ...” pointing at the picture on the computer, he continued, “... what I can tell you is she didn’t have red-hair like _that_ yesterday– that’s why it took me a few minutes to figure out where I recognised her from. She had blonde hair, yesterday... and it was shorter, shoulder length... Mom even commented on it, telling off Aly, saying that she shouldn’t have changed the colour of her hair because of her partner.”

Stannis’ eyes narrowed taking in the information: - So Sansa had changed her appearance to help hide from him. Did she _really_ think something so trivial would get in his way?! – _Foolish woman_!

Though the other part of Stannis was slightly relieved of the proof that - at least yesterday - she had still been in Kings Lading, though also further confirming Stannis’ suspicions that one of the neighbours in her dilapidated estate had warned her of their visit to her flat.

 

Clearly just as interested with this new information, Davos went on to ask Maetser Tarly more details about Sansa’s new look, and any other things the man could remember. Unfortunately Sam Tarly was unable to give them much more; – except for the time Sansa had left the flat and where his parents lived. This had prompted Stannis to want to go see Tarly’s mother to ask her a few questions as well. – Unfortunately quite a hard glare from Davos whilst Jon was still talking to his friend had made it clear that his friend had deduced his intentions and that Stannis would most likely _not_ be allowed to go see the older woman, as Davos was most likely worried that Stannis would ‘ _terrorise’_ Mrs Tarly... ( _Grunt_!)

 

**.**

 

The next few hours were not too different to the previous 36 hours: every now and then they would receive a few slivers of hope, them looking in the lead, followed by a lot of waiting around for something more concrete to happen...

Davos had come back from Maester Tarly and himself speaking with Mrs Tarly, but unhappily the older woman hadn’t much to add to what her son had told him. Only informed them how long Sansa had worked for her, how much she had paid Sansa, as well as a few anecdotes that proved useless...

A few of Jon’s and well as Davos’ informants had given more news about Ramsay Bolton: he was said to be currently in Braavos, believing his wife somewhere in Essos. They also found a few convictions that his father, Roose Bolton, had squashed, and there were a few troubling rumours from his youth (about him and his father), including certain speculation linked to his older brother’s sudden death several years ago...

Luwin had even gone over most of Sansa’s last will with them, mainly looking at what Ramsay would be getting under different circumstances (- death, divorce...).

 

**.**

 

It wasn’t until 18:48 that something concrete happened: Mr Luwin’s phone received a message from an unknown number:

‘ _ **Damon found me. Kings landin. Will try + call.**_ ’

From its cryptic nature as well as the mention of a ‘Damon’, Mr Luwin quickly confirmed that it was from Sansa, even if the number had not been withheld like all the previous ones.

As Stannis asked more information to Luwin and Jon about the mentioned ‘Damon’ (– a tiny bit relieved that there is no mention of Ramsay Bolton –) he was mindful of Davos in the background calling-instructing others to figure out the origin of the message.

Yet, only a few minutes had passed, only having started to talk about ‘ _Damon Dancefreme_ ’ when they were interrupted by Jon’s phone: Danaerys Targeryen-Drogo calling him.

 

Maybe from the lack of sleep of the past few days - his head and body aching, both physically and emotionally weary- that it took Stannis a few moments to understand the trail of the phone-conversation:

Mrs Targeryen-Drogo informed Jon that one of her closest friends – a certain Missandei Naathali, a professor at Blackwater Bay University - had just contacted her, more than concerned that one of her pupils from her evening class had left the end of term exam early with an unknown man, looking rather pale as, but not before writing a worrying note in her exam. Ms Naathali seemed more than fearful of the pupil’s safety, truly believing them in danger, especially by the fact that the message included the mention of the man being ‘ _dangerous’_ and for the teacher to not contact the police but two different numbers. – However, having recognised Jon’s name of the business card the pupil had left, Ms Missandei Naathali had first contacted Danaerys.

Mrs Targeryen-Drogo went on to say she was already on her way to the university and informed Jon of the location of the Ms Naathali on the campus.

Another call came during this time to Mr Luwin’s phone - from Ms Missandei Naathali: further confirming Stannis’ consideration that Sansa was the pupil and Mr Luwin’s had been the second number she had given to her professor. - Mr Luwin promptly informed the Naathi professor that he was with Jon Targaryen and some ‘concerned friends’, and they were now all heading to the university campus.

 

Once arrived at the classroom, Stannis did not waste time, and walked directly to Danaerys Tarageryen-Drogo and her (rather large) husband who were already talking to a similar petite size woman to Mrs Targaryen, however rather tanned and dark haired.

However before he was able to reach the three - apparently being ‘ _too agitated’_ – Davos had caught up with Stannis and had insisted on taking on the role of introducing the both of them with Jon.

The next few minutes ended up being Ms Naathali explaining to them not only the events of the evening during the exam, but also talking about her pupil, ‘ _Minisa Rivers_ ’, who had been her student for the last 5 months. It was the Naathi woman’s understanding that ‘Minisa Rivers’ had moved from Planky Town, as her course credits had been transferred from the Dornish city’s university to Blackwater Bay University (- inciting a brief moment of pride run through Stannis at the news that Sansa _was_ actually studying Finance and Management).

She also confirmed that tonight Minisa had had a blonde, shorter haircut today, in contrast to her previous red-auburn hair, as well as show the group the note and business card she had left with Ms Naathali. She had gone on to describe the man Sansa had left with as ‘Westerosi with that northern look, fair-haired, brown eyes, a three-day beard, with a somewhat scruffy appearance’, adding that he had looked more than pleased when ‘Minisa Rivers’ had joined him in the hallway. – Once more confirming that it hadn’t been Ramsay Bolton who had come to ‘ _collect her_ ’, but that Sansa was now with Ramsay’s associate and more than likely Ramsay knew where she now was.

 

Leaving the university, the next few gruelling couple of hours became a mix of:

... Stannis, Davos, Jon trying to get more information as to the last possible locations of ‘Damon Dancefreme’...

... as well as their respective men trying to track the location of the phone linked to the number that had messaged Mr Luwin...

... looking at different maps to possible locations where Damon might have taken her...

 

... finding the current exact location of Ramsay Bolton...

 

... as well as Danaerys Targayren demanding Jon more information on what was happening, and Jon having to request his aunt more than once that she not inform Rhaegar about what was going on till she had finally agreed to not contact her brother - Jon’s father... not yet at least...

 

... as well as Kharl Drogo also finding the need to get involved, after learning a few disturbing facts about Ramsay Bolton and Damon Dancefreme as well as knowing that the ‘ _charming young woman that his Dany had befriended on Monday’_ was in danger...

 

\- All in all the situation seemed to be getting way out of hand in Stannis opinion: the only things that really mattered was locate Sansa and Damon Dancefreme!

Unfortunately, for this, they needed another message (to find the location of where the second message had originated from) or, even better, an actual call from the phone to pinpoint its current location.

 

**.**

 

Finally – after what felt like ten years of Stannis’ life having passed by – Luwin received a second text message from Sansa’s phone:

‘ ** _Cotage. Outside KL. West. C trees from windo._** **_b ready to record_** ’

 

Although it most likely only took a dozen minutes at most to figure the origin of text, Stannis felt as if every beat of his heart till the location was found was not _seconds_ but _hours_ , and every _click_ on the keyboard and every _percentage_ of the loading tab, were medieval torture devices to prolong his agony to the _extreme_...

... then finally, the location: in the middle of nowhere, a couple of hours from Kings Landing, just past Ivy Inn, off the Kings Road.

 

**.**

 

They were in three cars: that is because there was not only Jon, Davos and Stannis but several of the men from his security team (who had all insisted Stannis not be in the first car), as well as Kharl Drogo two of his friends/associates who had also insisted on coming as well.

At least it had been decided that Mr Luwin would not go with them, the situation too dangerous for a man his age. However, one of Davos’ men had cloned the lawyer’s phone, at the very least to ‘ _be ready to record’_ any conversation, as the last text message had said, but mostly to further pinpoint the _precise_ location of the phone...

... and then it finally rang...

At the first ring, Stannis felt himself tense, watching as Davos pressed the answer button (for some reason Stannis was not allowed to hold the phone), his heart going frantic, his mind buzzing: they were still more than half an hour away...

 

For some reason Stannis had lost the power of speech but thankfully Jon spoke up:

“ _Sansa_?”

– No answer on the other end...

 

Jon called a few more times - each time Stannis’ heart missing a beat- but still no answer. Instead – proving that there was indeed a connection – they could hear the sound of _shuffling_...

... _more shuffling_...

Which lead them all to assume that Sansa must have put the device on ‘mute’ at her end...

There was a moment of rustling...

...then a soft but distinct click further in the background... – _a door opening_?...

 

... And then Stannis heard a man’s voice:

**_“Ah ... my sweet, lovely wife has finally returned to me.”_ **

 

 


	36. Chapter 35 - ... just listening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis listening to a conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter seems slightly of a repeat of the conversation Sansa and Ramsay had but felt that it was needed.

  


 

**_“Ah ... my sweet, lovely wife has finally returned to me.”_ **

 

Stannis throat hitched at the peculiar – _hollow_ \- male voice at the other end, as well as the distinctive possessiveness of the tone, especially at the word ‘ _wife_ ’.

 

A rather important part of him wanted to roar out, correct this low-life monster that _nothing_ of Sansa was _his_.

But he reined himself in.

Instead, Stannis all but ignored his frantic heart beating against his chest, veins pulsing through him, the other men in the car with him, the hum of the engine, the changing scenery out of the window, the guidance on the location...

It was as if the air around him had stopped... _all_ had stopped but the device in Jon’s hand...

His ears strained to hear everything coming from the phone...

Not that there was much to hear. After that first sentence there was a long gruelling pause, only the soft sound of shuffling - _steps_ – coming closer: Ramsay Bolton nearing to the phone and to _Sansa_...

And then:

**_“Still as beautiful as ever, but this will not do. I much prefer you natural colouring._ ** **Crimson-red _suits you perfectly.”_**

Another pause, before the voice – Bolton’s – spoke once more (as if he was alone in the room, talking to himself):

**_“When I first heard of you, I half expected a fat, bearded beast, not much different to my father’s latest wife. You know how pleased I was when I saw you. You made me very happy... I can honestly say you are still the most gorgeous thing I have seen. - Then, when I first started seeing you, I thought our relationship would be pretty boring and tiresome... you seemed just a little too sweet, too innocent..._ **

**_... but then you seemed so eager to please me, let me teach you all those things... and every now again a bit of that she-wolf I have come to crave would come out. I relished those moments... coxing them out of you... I eager for you to let it out and then I would be the one to tame you.”_ **

At the last remark Stannis barely noticed the growl he let out, or how his hands had turned white as they clenched into tight fists. – If he could just have this _creature_ in his grasp.

**_“...But I never, in a thousand years, would have imagined how interesting you would make our marriage: you have made these last few years anything but boring haven’t you...”_ **

A slight lull before the voice turned slightly harsher... more _dangerous_ :

**_“Though I must confess that I was quite upset when you killed Myranda. I had planned on enjoying her a little more before I took her out for a hunt... She was getting_ ** **jealous _– I don’t do_ jealous _. In any case you are_ mine _; it wasn’t for her to define what I did with what is mine. But you took away that amusement from me and my bitches.”_**

Mr Luwin had recounted the incident of ‘Myranda’s’ death, the whole sordidness of Bolton and his lover’s plan as well as _that_ room in the basement and what had happened in it. - Stannis felt pure fury at the comment: it had been Ramsay Bolton and this _Myranda_ who had all but surely ruined what little remained of Sansa’s innocence, had removed her sense of safety and trust, had forced her into a life on the run. If Sansa had killed it was not by her own fault but _theirs_... with the last words only underlining even further the other man’ sadistic nature.

– _No_ , his Sansa was too good for such a monster, too pure to be in the same place as such a creature...

 

The thought didn’t help the silence that followed.

These moments were no one spoke, only soft rustling could be heard were even more disturbing than Ramsay Bolton’s words; Stannis unable to stop his mind from imagining a number of possible scenes happening at the other end... wondering what the noises actually meant...

 

In a more pleasant, somewhat contrite, tone, the same maddening voice spoke once more:

**_“Forgive me; let’s not talk of such upsetting matters. What has my darling wife been up to in my absence?”_ **

Stannis had barely time to truly acknowledge the threat behind the words (and make threats of his own in return) when –

**_“- Why don’t you just kill me?”_ **

_Sansa_.

Stannis froze. He wasn’t even sure if he was still breathing, or his heart still beating, all he was aware of was _Sansa_. He was finally hearing her voice after nearly _3 days_... _69 hours_... a ridiculous amount of minutes... - _Too_ many to have been separated from her.

In all this time he hadn’t seen her face, heard her voice, smelled her perfume, touched her soft skin, tasted her plump lips...

 _\- Gods_ how he missed her voice... The whole feeling was... _electrifying...liberating..._

Stannis couldn’t help but feel relief that Sansa was _somewhere_ , that he could hear her voice, that that she was _living_... _breathing..._

 

... Only to be dampened by the words themselves: those foolish, horrifying, stupid, idiotic words she had just said, making Stannis actually regret her speaking.

He didn’t even realise he had bellowed a “ _NO!_ ”, risen from his seat till his head bumped against the car ceiling and he felt the small jerk of the car, the driver having most likely been caught off guard by the sudden exclamation.

But by then the other voice replied, bringing Stannis back to the matter at hand:

**_“Why would I want to kill you?... you are my wife.”_ **

Confusingly, Stannis could hear a distinct note of _humour(??)_ in Sansa’s response:

**_“Of course, how silly of me: why would you kill me? Of course you wouldn’t kill me: you_ ** **need _me. I think the last version of my will goes something like this:_**

**_‘I leave the whole of the Stark and Tully fortune to be evenly distributed between the following charities. Each of the estates, in the North as well as in the Riverlands, are to become homes for orphans who did not have the same chance as me to recover from their own personal tragedies - with the added necessary amount of money to be able to run them. To my darling husband, I leave him my shares of Bolton Timber, as well as my half of our house in Wintertown: – he has so many fond memories of it, I would hate not deprive him of them.’”_ **

In the same maddeningly calm – still slightly amused?! (not at all reassuring) – tone, Sansa continued:

**_“You can’t hit me either, can you? And you can’t just keep me to yourself. If you are going to get me to change my will, I need to be very much alive and in the best of shape. A statement would not do – to announce that Sansa Stark wa-_ ** **“**

**_“-Bolton.”_ **

There was a definitive snap in the returning tone.

\- The correction earned another fierce growl from Stannis’ own clenched teeth.

And yet, now sounding... _bored_? Sansa replied:

**_“My apologies: a statement would not do to say that Sansa_ ** **Stark-Bolton _has returned after nearly five years. People would want to see me, question me, check on me and my well-being... probably chastise me for being so foolish in my lack of concern for how much them worried about me, with no news during my travels through Essos... It is a shame to acknowledge the fact that our friends would not just take your word that your wife was alive and well._**

**_Oh! but wait - Mr Luwin is still alive, isn’t he?... Of course he is. Probably making things even harder for you; he was always the most thorough employee of Starks Industries, as well as when he was Father’s and then Robb’s lawyer. – He would accept nothing less than my physical presence in front of him with two legs, two arms, skin not marred... – those pesky lawyers can be quite insistent checking on their clients’ wellbeing.”_ **

The two talked as if they were discussing the weather – well, at least, Sansa was!

With the torturing pause that followed, Stannis’ heart beat raised as he worry as to what would happen next: – from what both Mr Luwin and Jon had said Ramsay Bolton was definitely not the most stable man, whose temper could definitely get the best of him... and Sansa seemed to be actually trying to be _taunting him_!?!

He couldn’t help but imagine of a small bird pecking at the eyes of a great big bear.

... had his beautiful, strong, pure Sansa lost her mind...?

 

But the voice that broke the silence held no hint of anger, which actually worried Stannis _more_ :

**_“My darling Sansa, you_ ** **wound _me, as I said before: you are my_ wife _. All I plan to do is be your ever loving husband. I plan to take care of you from now on. You will continue to be my primary concern..._**

**_... All I want is a loving caring family... you, me and any little pups that are to come...”_ **

... _pups_...

... _Children_...

... A child... the child Sansa had been so adamant to refuse Stannis...

**_“- And what better way to celebrate our reunion, after all these years, but by making that son we dreamed about so long ago...? Everyone remembers how much you wanted children; having lost your own family under tragic circumstances, you would definitely want to have a new family.”_ **

This time Stannis did hear the cry of fury filling the car: “ _NO!! - DONT YOU FUCKING DARE_!!!!” – _His_ as well as _Jon’s_.

... that man...

... that _creature_... was planning to _rape_ _his_ Sansa?!?! Force himself on her! Force a child on her, made in such a way!

 _NEVER_!?!?!?

 

The statement seemed to have held also Sansa speechless– a concept that did not reassure Stannis in the slightest.

**_“And even though I know you want_ ** **nothing more _than be a_ dutiful wife _and have_ our _children, I’ll give you more of an incentive: . . . do you remember Reek?”_**

Stannis frowned not recognising the name, before looking up to both Davos and Jon for an explanation. Unfortunately, both looked at him with the same blank stare – clearly as lost as him. However, it seemed they were not the only ones, Sansa asking:

**_“Reek?”_ **

**_“My pet.”_ **

Understanding this time was in the returning whisper: _**“Theon-“**_

But anger cut her before she could finish: **_“-Reek! Not Theon...”_ ** making Stannis teeth near shatter, his palms near bleed from his nails digging into them as he thought Ramsay might finally show his anger physically as well.

However it seemed Ramsay still held his control, as his voice turned back to its previous _pleasantness_ :

**_“You are mistaken my dear:_ ** **Theon Greyoy _died not long after the tragic fire that killed your sister. . . Unfortunately,_ Reek _proved not as faithful as I had hoped. . . I had to put him down as well. - I accept nothing less but_ obedience _.”_**

Stannis barely heard Jon asking Davos if that would be enough for proof of murder on Ramsay’s part, not even hearing the response; instead he focused on the voice still speaking... still threatening Sansa:

**_“... Anyway, that’s not what I want to talk about. Before he died he did inform me of something interesting that will make you happy: Theon Greyjoy did not kill your brothers. He took them out of the fire and sent them out into the night before his uncle Euron got to them. Is not the best of news?”_ **

**_“Bran and Rickon...?... they’re a-alive?”_ **

From what Mr Luwin had revealed, Stannis knew that Sansa already knew that both her brothers were still alive. Nonetheless, in the last week Stannis had come to recognise when Sansa was lying, and thus was more than sure that the fear in her tone was _genuine_ : – part of her truly believed that Ramsay had her brothers and they were in danger from the mad man.

**_“Yes my sweet wife... I wanted to have this gift for you for when you came back to me. They seem so happy that I am your husband. I think they would be so quite disappointed for you, if you didn’t have those children you dream of.”_ **

 

There was another wait, another long breath, before Ramsay Bolton’s voice, sounding even more joyful, more victorious, than before added:

**_“Of course, there is also your lawyer and that cousin of yours...”_ **

_\- Jon_

At the mention Stannis’s eyes for the first time, actually shifted from the phone and looked up to the young man, all whilst continuing to listen.

There was a definite edge that Sansa was unable to conceal:

**_“Cousin?”_ **

**_“Yes...: your_ ** **dear _,_ cousin _Jon. I have not been the only one frantic to find you, my dear. It would seem you have a cousin very eager to meet you. He has been most helpful in trying to find you these last few years. Reduced some of the heavy lifting me and my friends had to do._**

**_Though I must say I was quite disappointed when he called Mr Luwin to inform him that he had seen you but failed to call_ ** **me _, your very distraught_ husband _.”_**

**_“Seen me?”_ **

The lie was more than clear in her words, and obviously – unfortunately - Ramsay Bolton was not the least bit fooled:

**_“Yes my lovely wife... you are a much better liar than you were at the start of our marriage, but you won’t be able to deceive me so easily. – Even before Damon informed me that he had found you, I was given conformation that you were in Kings Landing:_ **

**_Imagine my surprise when travelling in Braavos, trying to locate you, when I was emailed the recording of a very interesting conversation between your lovely family lawyer and your cousin, the former saying that he not only knew where you where but that he had actually met you earlier that same evening. - And here I thought my lovely wife was still doing her tour of Essos, as she had stated._ **

**_Thankfully Damon was in the area and looked into the allegation, and even had dear cousin Jon followed. I must say your cousin has had a very curious last few days: Damon informed me that he and a few of his friends have been all around the capital before they went to where one can assume you lived these last few months.”_ **

Fury ran through Stannis at the knowledge that one of Ramsay Bolton’s goons had been following them! No wonder this _Damon_ had found Sansa before they had! As well as the fact that Ramsay Bolton was ready to use any means necessary to get what he wanted... and not only that but that he seemed more than willing – _eager_ even - to actually act on those threats: not only Sansa was in danger but anyone associated to her... anyone she may care about.

All Stannis wanted to do was to reassure Sansa, tell her all would be fine that he would protect her and all threatened by this monster... that she just had to hold on and wait for him to arrive... not to give into this madman... that she wasn’t alone...

... but they were still too far away...

... still too much distance before he could protect her... get his hands on any monster who dared threaten her...

... All he could do was yell at his driver to go _faster_!... as fast as the retched car could go!

 

And yet...

... the whole of himself stumbled, his heart retched out of his body as Sansa finally spoke, her subdued words cutting him down:

**_“Of course Ramsay, I wish nothing more than be a dutiful wife, with a child, watching him grow. Hopefully he will be the image of his father.”_ **

Unlike Stannis, Ramsay Bolton was clearly delighted by her words:

**_“I am so happy to hear that, my darling Sansa.”_ **

But then Sansa retorted – her words giving Stannis the smallest of hopes that she wasn’t indeed planning on letting herself be trapped by this monster:

**_“I just have a small concern of my own, Ramsay.”_ **

Stannis took a breath...

... and then another, before finally:

**_“How can I be sure you will be the devoted husband that you claim?”_ **

His voice was full of ‘love and care': **_“Sansa, I have already stated that you will be my primary concern... you are my she-wolf... how could you even question me? My_ devotion _to you?”_**

Yet, there was a bight in her voice:

**_“Really Ramsay? Do I really need I remind you that you cheated on me with a common whore?”_ **

And then understanding in the other voice: **_“Ahhh Myranda...I thought that issue had been_ settled, _Sansa. She meant nothing to me... just a small amusement. Though I feel I should also remind you I do not like_ jealousy _.”_**

There had been a slight edge of warning at the end of the response, yet Sansa only scoffed at it. - The conversation seemed to now have turned into a tennis match, the ball going from one side to the other, each player not giving the other an inch, only raising the tension, countering every hit...

**_“Jealousy?... this is nothing to do with jealousy, Ramsay. As you keep on repeating, you are my husband. I was not jealous, I was angry that my husband cheated on me - with a common trollop, no less. Have you no shame; you could have at least gone for someone own our social level._ **

**_I don’t care what you do in your own times with your friends Ramsay – I would never question you in how you want to amuse yourself, but I do care of things that affect my marriage. Taking that_ ** **whore _to your bed, meant that in some way our marriage was a failure... somehow I had failed you... or that you considered me no better than a whore...”_**

**_“Of course not my sweet... our marriage was perfect... it will only get better... all my attention will be on you. You did not fail me: you were perfect.”_ **

**_“Oh, I know.”_ **

There was clear confusion in the man’s voice, this time – Bolton finally fully destabilised: **_“You do?”_**

**_“Yes. Now I know that the problem was not_ ** ** me ** **_: it was_ ** ** you ** **_.”_ **

The edge had returned by now – as well as the danger that was Ramsay Bolton: ** _“Me?”_**

In an unnerving calmness she reapplied:

**_“Yes, I needed some time away - I’m sorry that it ended up being quite a long time - but I thought long and hard of how I might have not see it... how I could have failed you... all the things you showed me, taught me; I was a willing student... you can’t deny that..”_ **

The confusion was back, more pronounced: **_“Of course not...”_**

**_“Well, then it came to me: maybe I just hadn’t been enough... not good enough... So I tested my theory, but it corrected my doubts: I was definitely good enough, maybe even too much to handle. It was_ ** **you _who had failed_ us _.”_**

Part of Stannis wanted to feel pride that Sansa was standing up for herself; a part, but a very, very _small_ part...

... because the rest of him was only becoming more unsettled... more worried... his breaths closer together, his palms sweating slightly, his spine straightening... _What are you doing, Sansa_???

And then, as if to confirm his growing fears, he heard the growl in the monster’s voice: **_“What. Do. You. Mean.: you tested your_ theory _?”_**

All Stannis wanted to do was scream at Sansa to SHUT UP, to _not_ reply, just wait for him to arrive... but all was futile, his fierce Sansa had never learnt when to stop:

**_“Well I slept with someone else as well, of course. But he reassured me that I had no failings what-so-ever in that department.”_ **

The statement was said with much simplicity, as blatancy that Stannis might have smiled if the situation was any different – but this was no humorous matter: Sansa was a child poking at a hornets’ nest, a small mouse biting at a great big lion, a bird chirping at an angry bear...

And boy was that bear angry... Fury was more than palpable when Ramsay Bolton replied: **_“You let someone fuck you?”_**

However, before Sansa had a chance to confirm or deny the accusation, a soft menacing growl came through the phone:

**_“But wait, before you answer me, know this: You are mine. - No one else can have what is mine. -_ **

**_\- If a man has_ ** **kissed _you, I will rip his tongue out and make him eat it,_ in front of you _._**

**_\- If a man has_ ** **touched _you, I will cut off his fingers one by one and make him eat them,_ in front of you _._**

**_If a man has_ ** **fucked _you, I will cut his cock and balls and feed them to him,_ in front of you _.”_**

As the threats had been spoken, a part of Stannis could distinctively feel the stares of not only Davos and Jon – even a quick sideways glance from the driver and his front passenger looking at him. But Stannis didn’t care about himself, he only cared for _Sansa_ and right now the only thing he wanted to do was call out to her, tell her there was still a chance to redeem herself, scoff her remark as a tasteless joke... before the monster did anything to her...

**_“So... tell me, my sweet beautiful_ ** ** wife ** **_... have you really let someone_ ** ** kiss ** **_you?..._ ** ** touch ** **_you?..._ ** ** fuck ** **_you?”_ **

It the anger before might have not been fully apparent, might have been somewhat controlled...tamed, at least to the most dim, but it was no longer the case. This man had meant every word he had uttered – threatened - for both Sansa and for Stannis.

To which, Stannis’ own agitation grew, to the point of him all but yelling at the inanimate object – yelling for Sansa to: “SHUT UP!!! STOP TALKING SANSA!! STOP IT! WE ARE NEARLY THERE!!! DONT FUCKING SAY ANOTHER FUCKING WORD!!!”

(The other four men in the car clearly saw that there was no point in trying to calm Stannis down)

And yet, Stannis did stop... all of him stopped: his heart stopped, his veins growing cold, his spine stiffening, his teeth locked in a grimace as he listened in _horror_ , as Sansa replied as if telling an amusing anecdote:

**_“Oh Ramsay, I do remember how you don’t like people lying to you, and as you said before you can still tell when I am lying. I confess: I am an atrocious liar. So I’ll tell you the_ ** **truth** **_:_ **

** Yes ** **_. I let another man_ ** ** kiss ** **_me, touch me,_ ** ** fuck ** **_me... but he did more than just that... We did_ ** **much more** **_than just that. - On the first night I stripped in front of him fully before-_ **

**_-_** As Sansa seemed to have started describing their intimate moments together, Stannis quickly grabbed the phone and turned off the speaker mode. Turning very red – this time in self-consciousness rather than anger or fear: there were certain things that were _private_ , no matter the situation.

Thankfully, both Davos and Jon seemed to agree as they had both pulled back from the device, shifting awkwardly in their seats, as they had started being privy to such details of Stannis’ relationship with Sansa.

Stannis didn’t even want to start thinking if Mr Luwin might also be listening to this part of the conversation, as he was recording it, back in Kings Landing...

... instead, he put the phone to his ear and listened to what might be happening now. – Hopefully Sansa had stopped taunting Ramsay Bolton before giving him too many details of what exactly Sansa and he had done; unfortunately he more very much wrong:

**_“... satisfied by his eagerness and his own prowess. Let’s not forget to mention the other ways he pleased me: not long into our affair, he gave me a very lovely present. To show my gratitude I took him in my_ ** **mouth _... remember how I never let you do that all those years ago. Did Myranda suck your cock? - His was definitely a_ mouthful _...”_**

 

Stannis could only close his eyes in a mix of pride, lust and horror at the statement as well as the memory of Sansa’s lips on the mentioned part of his anatomy... both wishing for her to stop and continue... and continue she did:

**_“But you haven’t heard the best part...”_ **

_... Most likely the worse part_...

**_“... I might actually be carrying his child right now. Now that would be something wouldn’t it? – I would finally have that child I have been dreaming of for all these years.”_ **

**_  
_ **

...

  


... there was silence.... a long torturous silence...

... Stannis only hearing his heart having decided to work again, pounding in his ears, his grip ready to crush the phone as the silence dragged on...

... even the thought of Sansa maybe being pregnant with his child was over- shadowed by the fact that now more than ever that Sansa had complete lost her mind, taunting this maniac psychopath...-

\- There was a growl – a low _roar..._

_._

_.._ then a crash...

... a groan – _soft whimper_...

... and then...

There were a few things this week that would only be a blur to Stannis, things that through all the torment, exhaustion, fear he would never truly remember...

...whilst others, he was sure, would be etched inside his mind until his dying day: this was one of those moments... when the groan was followed by a shrilling, bloodcurdling, gut-retching cry coming from the other end of the phone...

  


... a piercing bloodcurdling scream worse than a thousand daggers running through Stannis.

 

  



	37. Chapter 36 - ... just silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are no words...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok – this chapter was really hard and even painful to write - _I’m not really one for violence_ \- and it never seemed quite right, especially the sequence of actions/movements, but hopefully I was able to convey the ‘violence’/’torment of the scene without delving too much into the actual violence itself.
> 
> There WILL still be violence in this chapter - RAMSAY is his own warning - I apologise in advance if the violence is a too sensitive issue for you/ a trigger for you.
> 
> (if you do want more of the violence/ picture more the scene, one scene that did ‘inspire me’ for the Sansa/Ramsay moment was the scene in the film True Romance, with Patricia Arquette and James Gandolfini: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ddzaYkvCVog> / <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnOOqjcoi0o> )

 

 

The last few moments – however many minutes had this clash had gone on for – had been a flurry... a confusion of: ...

... him slamming her against the wall...

... her scratches to his face and neck...

... his twisting of her arm...

... her punches...

... _his_ punches...

... her able to get a hold of the side lamp and crash over his head...

... him able to easily (- too easily if Sansa was honest with herself -) and throwing her across the room, to land hard the desk ...

... her head butting him, as she tried to stand up ...

... his several kicks to her stomach (- Sansa unsure if it was just the rage taking over, or Ramsay actually trying to ‘kill’ the baby supposedly inside her)...

... her able to grab his leg and make him fall...

... his whole body pressed against her own and he pulled at her hair once more before biting her ear...

... of so many more that Sansa was sure she could not remember it all, that she was not sure where she did not hurt, where she was starting to bleed or where she had yet to start...

 

It was a mix of pain, fury, madness, more pain... but also _triumph_...

Triumph to know that in her doom was also his own: if she died it would be today, not tomorrow, not after twenty years of torment and agony at his hand...

She would never go back to him.

He might be there right in front of her, imposing himself on her but ultimately _she_ would win. If she died here, now, he would never have her money, her inheritance, her name... but most of all he would not have _her_. He would have never tamed her:

Let it be known that he might have hunted her, trapped her, tortured her but he never broke her...

... Let it be known she died a Stark...

... Let it be known she died a wolf.

 

Whimpering slightly she lifted herself to a semi-standing position: – her body aching too much to rise higher. Her eyes meeting Ramsay’s, Sansa could see the madness had finally fully taken over: it was the rage, the blood, the violence, the pain – _hers as well as his_ – that fed that madness deep within him.

“My lovely Sansa... you seemed so eager to talk about the man who was foolish enough to touch what is _mine_. – Why don’t you want to talk about him some more and Give. Me. His. _Name_.”

 

 _Ahhh yess_... how could she forget? In all that commotion, every once in a while, Ramsay had demanded the name of her lover, but he would not have this either - Sansa would never give Stannis’ name to this monster.

She returned his smile with a crazed one of her own, but did not speak.

Instead of seeming angry or frustrated at her refusal, Ramsay grimace-smile only grew, already planning his next punishment for her defying him, denying him.

“You are keeping _waiting_ , my darling Sansa... I do not do waiting. – I _hate_ waiting ... for anything. Tell. Me. His. Name. Sansa. Tell me his name and I might be merciful... I might give _you_ a quick and painless death... Or at least, I will release you of this pain once I have your lover in my grasp.”

Even with her body throbbing, every muscle hurting, pain running through her, only tingling further at the temptation for it to end, Sansa’s courage (-or maybe it was just stupid stubbornness-) did not falter: she would not back down. Instead, she scoffed – her laugh slightly maniacal (her husband having finally made her as crazy as him):

“I know you Ramsay, remember, I am your _wife_ : death is so final... you don’t like final... you like _fun_... no you won’t give me any ‘ _quick death_ ’ no matter what I do... so go ahead, Ramsay, have your _fun_.”-

\- However, not waiting for him to act, or reply, Sansa moved her leg to kick him the crotch. Unfortunately her movements were not as precise and fast as Ramsay’s and he rather easily blocked the blow to then give a one of his own to her stomach.

“You are a bit a she-devil aren’t you, with that she-wolf... Gotten a little more wild whilst you’ve been away?”

Sansa only growled in response.

“Oh... don’t worry wife, I like it, I like it _a lot_.”

As he finished speaking, unlike her, Ramsay was still quite capable and agile, and went to grab her arms. His large hands now tightening around her upper-arms, as she tried to free herself from the hold he had now trapped her in, he pressed his whole self against her. The next thing Sansa felt was Ramsay nipping at her neck, his teeth more than just scrapping her skin: “... but first you were saying something about me having _fun_.”

For the second time tonight he twisted her arm, but this time went much farther than previously: as Sansa let out a screech of pain, her voice going raw, she was sure she felt it dislocate from her shoulder.

However during the movement, as well as her trying to shove away from him, her shirt finally tore (- Sansa was actually surprised it was not more damaged), revealing her shoulders and neck.

Panting, eyes closed, half crouched on the ground, it took a few moments to realise that there was a moment of silence. Ramsay had actually let her go and had yet to capture her once more, or even speak to her.

 

After a few heavy breaths, Sansa finally found the strength to open her eyes, to see why Ramsay had stopped his assault.

She looked up to eyes blazing in fury, his grimace having turned _feral_. But he wasn’t looking back into her own eyes; he was looking at another part of her... lower. Following his glare Sansa felt her neck burn as she moved it, but she could not see what he was looking at...

Clear outrage as he whisper-growled in fury: “You let him _mark_ you?”

 _Oh_... It was only then that Sansa remembered the love bite Stannis had given her at the bottom of her neck... one that he had several times made slightly darker and more pronounced as their week had progressed.

 

The memories of those times were replaced by the very physical present of Ramsay crouching in front of her, grabbing her through her desperate, disjointed blocks, before he moved his face inches from her own. Slightly shaking, Sansa first felt him press his nose in her hair, as if to smell her (- was he trying to identify another man’s odour?-), for then his mouth to slowly move closer and closer to her ear. And then he whispered:

“Clearly it is time to remind you a few things dear wife: time to remind you that _you_ are _mine_... no one else’s _mine_ and, my sweet Sansa: I punish those who are mine when they have been bad... and darling you have been bad... very, _very,_ _bad_.”

Sansa moved her head from his, forced herself to face him as she let out a humourless laugh:

“Oh... such the hypocrite Ramsay... but then again I shouldn’t expect too much from you. But you know Ramsay, one of the many things I learnt in this not-so lovely life of mine is life is not a song: there are no heroes ... in life, the monsters win, _but_ we might as well make the most of this wretched reality.”-

\- And with that she gave him a head butt right in the face, before trying once more to escape his grip.

The action had thankfully been unexpected, being caught off guard; she was thankfully able to fight off his hold of her as one of his hands when straight to his face as Ramsay let out a cry of rage. But the other hand made a grab for her: in the blindness of his pain or of the blood already seeping from his nose he missed her, but he was able to grasp her shirt... for it to fully tare open and show the expanse of her stomach, her skin already showing bruising marks from the earlier blows.

Right arm lifeless... her legs and other arm moved as much as they possibly could, Sansa scrambling to get as far from Ramsay as possible, even as she could feel her strength weakening, the adrenaline of earlier wearing down... it was even a challenge to keep her (swollen) eyes open and on Ramsay as she started to imagine what he would do next...

By now most of his face seemed to have been covered by the blood of his (hopefully broken nose). But admits all that red, past the hand that was still holding his injury, Sansa could see the two pale shards of dirty blue ice looking straight back at her...

... They stared at each other like what seemed ten life times, but was probably only a few seconds.

 

\- _And then_ , just when it seemed like Ramsay was about to speak once more, they saw lights coming from outside reflecting on the ceiling, the sound of engines murmuring in the distance... getting louder... getting closer...

... Returning calls and exclamations, the sound of wood scraping against the floor, echoed from downstairs.

Ramsay looked from the window, back to her, frowning slightly. Sansa, for herself could only blink (even that proved painful), not wanting to imagine who else was joining this ‘lovely’ couple’s get-together.

Probably seeing as he would get no answers from her, Ramsay limped to the window, for a better view on who was coming.

There was another pause before he turned back to her, a wide maniacal grin on his face:

“You seem to have made a quite few friends whilst we were separated, my dear Sansa. - Did you warn them you were here?... has your lover come as well, to try and rescue you?... This is turning into a lovely evening.”

 

However, before she could think of a possible answer there was a sudden _CRASH!_ caught both Ramsay and her unaware: from the second window Ramsay had just turned his back to, and something entered – or was thrown into the room - with them, colliding with Ramsay.

 

 

= = =

 

 

Since that first cry, a distant part of Stannis might have been somewhat aware of the tension in the car having risen, especially of Jon (- who had been one of the ones slightly trying to calm Stannis down (and had completely failed) -) growling to Stannis’ driver to go faster, or of Davos’ face darkening further, or of the other two cars also speeding up...

But, at this point Stannis didn’t care about where he was... about the car... about who was in the car... what was going on inside the car...

... He didn’t care about anything but _Sansa_.

He yelled though the phone all his rage and pain...

He screamed at Sansa to _SHUT THE HELL UP_!

He roared at Ramsay Bolton that he would personally tare him apart, limb for limb...

 

“ _Ours is the fury_ ”: these were the words of the black stag of his ancestors; a battle cry echoed though History and Lore when talking about the old House Baratheon.

Never had Stannis felt those ancient words run through him as they did now...

... this was _his_ fury...

... this was _his_ battle...

 

... and then, finally, there it _was_.

From the window he could see the small house structure getting closer, the first two cars even closer than the one he was in... closer to Sansa... closer to Ramsay Bolton...

As the car continued to get him to where he was needed, Stannis could finally notice the lights turned on all over the ground floor... and there was one light coming from the higher floor – _Sansa_

He couldn’t remember why he should know this, but he knew that she was up there, up in that room; _her_ and _Ramsay_.

 

Then time seemed to slow down...

... _Heart beat_...

Gun in hand

... _Heart beat_...

Car slowed down

... _Heart beat_...

 

He did not hear Jon’s yells, Davos’ warning calls, or the hand trying to grab him. No, instead Stannis all but wretched his car door open even before the vehicle had fully stopped...

... he barely gave mind to the sounds of shooting already breaking through the night air (coming from inside the house as well as from the men from the first two cars)...

... He didn’t even take the time to pause and reflect if this was a smart idea....

... The only notion Stannis could think of right now, the reality repeating itself inside of him, was that Sansa was in danger... Sansa needed _him_... her scream ingrained in his until his dying day (– which would most likely come very soon from his recklessness -)...

 

 

= = =

 

So many noises...

... _groans... screams... gun shots... breaking of glass... crashing of furniture_...

Although she could hear them all, they all seemed so faraway, in a distant land, a wall between her and them...

 

Sansa had not moved from where she had scrambled to, to get away from Ramsay. By now she was laying on her back, breathing hard; she had gone past feeling all the pain running through her, she could only feel her body slowly dozing down, sinking away... - even her eyes weren’t cooperating anymore and would not open.

But she could still hear, still conscious of not one but _two_ fights going on: a confrontation of many downstairs, the noises only mummers, and the struggle happening in the room: the thing that had turned out to be a person and Ramsay... even that one seemed so far from her...

There had been several growls at each other, between the sound of flesh hitting flesh, between the grunts (Sansa mostly recognising Ramsay’s)...

... There was now a slight pause... then there was the slash of a blade... and someone - not Ramsay - spoke... it didn’t even sound male...

... going in and out of consciousness, Sansa willed herself to listen as much as she could, all the while, forcing her body to move, to turn her head and open at least one eye...

... Vision blurry... head ringing in pain once more... she could only distinguish a rather small dark form hovering over a crouched larger one...

 

... Closing her eye once more, she could sometimes hear the voice whisper between the sounds of a knife cutting skin, piercing into flesh:

_Slash... whimper... whisper... answering mumble..._

“... _I have killed quite a few people in my life...”_

_Slash... whimper... whisper... answering mumble..._

_“...I’m glad I get to kill you...”_

_Slash... whimper... whisper... answering mumble..._

_“... do you know who I am?_...”

_Slash... whimper... whisper... answering mumble..._

_“... do you know who you are_?...”

_Slash... whimper... whisper... answering mumble..._

“... you are no one...”

 

There was the briefest of pauses, and then a final slash with the words

 _“You are nothing_.”

... there was a final gurgle... and then...

 

... and then there was silence.

 

Sansa could feel a cold breeze running over her skin – _a_ _winter breeze_...

A small smile formed on her face, despite the pain - _Winter is Coming_ – as a sense of peace washed over her.

 

_Finally..._

 

= = =

 

There had been fewer men that he had thought. He had shot a few himself, punched others, got a few wounds of his own, but Stannis did not care.

The others were still fighting the few that were left, but somehow (not entirely sure how, but the presence of Jon and Davos right behind him most probably helped) Stannis was now running up a flight of stairs. At the top, he past a first room (– no light under the door –), a second (- also not light -) to then finally reach the end of the dark corridor, a large wooden door blocking his path.

He could see the light coming from the slit between floor and door, but he could not hear anything coming from inside...

Cold dread and fury ran one and the same through him as he charged forward, into the wood, there was a crack, followed by a loud and he fell into the room...

 

Panting, rising as quickly as possible to his feat, Stannis looked around the eerily quiet space:

... all was _chaos_ : everything broken, furnisher thrown against others, wallpaper torn, even a few cracks in the wall...

... the only movement were from the curtains swaying, as a cool breeze came from the broken windows...

... the only sounds were those coming from downstairs, the men still fighting...

 

Stepping further into the room, (only slightly conscious of the other two who had also entered the room) Stannis noticed large form lying just at the foot of the bed...

... a bloodied, barely distinguishable, body.

His heart stopped, breath hitched, before he finally realised the build and size were completely wrong...

Moving even closer, the body in fact seemed _male_...

... _Ramsay Bolton_

 

Whatever thoughts or urges that were running through Stannis about this monster (- or what was left of it -) there was something more pressing... _Sansa_ – He had to find Sansa.

Swiftly turning his attention away from the body, heart racing once more he moved further into the room, his eyes frantically looking everywhere... till he saw _her_...

He wasn’t even aware of his own hollow voice as it whispered: “ _Sansa..._ ” as he crashed through the things lying on the floor, crossing the few steps to get to her side...

Crouching on her side, his gaze took in the whole of her: although a lot better than the other body, there was blood smeared on her skin, bruises everywhere...

... great despair and fury enveloped him.

He wanted to take her into his arms, cradle her body in his own and comfort her but he paused; too worried to touch somewhere that might harm her...

... because she _was_ alive; she just _had_ to be! He would not accept anything less!

As if to answer his thought, that was when he noticed the ever so slight rise and fall of her chest – it was small but it was _there –_ A sigh-cry of relief: _she’s breathing_...

 

... his hand shaking, his face becoming wet, his eyes blurry for some reason, Stannis moved ever so slowly and placed his hand as delicately as possible on her forehead, caressing her hair, before giving her the softest of kisses where his hand had just passed...

Lips still touching her forehead, he whispered to her – _begged her_ :

“ _Please Sansa... please... please stay... please don’t die_...”

 

= = =

 

Sansa frowned – or at least she frowned on the inside, pretty sure that her body was not all cooperating or moving:

There had been peace, but then her silence had been disturbed by a crash faraway...

Before the blackness settled in fully once more, she then started hearing a voice... another voice...

... not Ramsay’s voice...

... not the small figure’s voice...

But it was a voice she felt she _should_ know, especially since it called _her_ name: “ _Sansa_...”

 

That voice...

She definitely recognised that voice...

But _no_! – She tried to frown, wanted to cry out. – _No, no, no, no, no , no_ \- It was all wrong! - _that_ voice couldn’t be here! Ramsay was here! That voice needed to get as far from Ramsay as possible...

But it did not leave... instead it spoke once more, this time much closer...

“ _Please Sansa... please...”_

 

Sansa was sure this time she did frown, confused: - _Please what_?

 

And then all went black. All went silent.

 

 


	38. Chapert 37 - ... just watching over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: No violence in this chapter, but there is mention of abuse/previous violence

 

Stannis wasn’t sure how long it took for the paramedics to arrive...

Or how they knew where to find them...

Or how long it took to get from the cottage to get to Sow’s Horn Hospital (him holding Sansa’s hand during the whole of journey, once the paramedic assured him it was fine and that it would not hurt her)...

Or how long he paced in the waiting area whilst they had taken her from him to one of the ORs and then the ICU, before he let himself be dragged by Davos to some medical personnel to have his own wounds looked after...

 

He only clung on to the paramedics’ words: ‘ _Miss Stark is alive’_... ‘ _heart beat is a little slow but steady_ ’...

... And the maester’s ones, hours later, when the sun was already rising: ‘ _the surgery has gone well... Miss Stark should make a full recovery_...’ All she needed now was a lot of rest, her body needed to time to heal; only time would tell when she would wake up.

Even then, Stannis still tortured himself, listening on as Jon pressed for details about his cousin’s condition. He noticed the sorrow in the surgeon’s eye as he spoke of ‘ _cracked ribs’_ , ‘ _dislocated shoulder’_ , ‘ _teeth marks on her ear and neck’_ , ‘ _broken wrist’, ‘cranial trauma- concussion’_... and many other injuries... - _too_ many.

Stannis felt himself loosing it all over again: all he could think about was going down to the morgue, or wherever that retched body was, and pulling Ramsay Bolton back from the dead, so he could punch his face over and over again, feel every crunch of his knuckles against the man’s cheekbones, break his nose, crush his skull, beat him to a pulp... make him feel all the pain he made Sansa endure and more...-

\- Stannis was only pulled out of his thoughts when the maester’s voice wavered and actually took a step back from Stannis, mostly likely by his murderous thoughts being clearly etched on his face.

It was then that Jon asked, his voice even more hollow than before: ... _can she f-feel?_... _is she aware of the pain_? ... _Is there a chance that she doesn’t wake?..._

Stannis turned numb next to him, every part of him refused for any of it to be a reality, yet he could feel his heart pounding harder the few seconds it took the other man to answer, even then the answer only seemed a blur of words: ‘... _Under morphine_... _should not feel the pain too much... if she did, we would have put her in an induced coma... My professional opinion... will not go into a vegetative state... highly unlikely... Miss Stark needs the rest... Still young... no permanent damage... will wake up when her body is ready_...’

Hope flowing through him, Stannis recovered himself ever so slightly, his breathing started becoming normal once more.

That was before he was pierced with another thought, and could not help himself but ask - his voice rough from not having used it since he had begged Sansa: “... and the child?”

The maester turned to him, “Miss Stark was never pregnant.”

At the words Stannis felt a mix of pain and relief that a babe made by the two of them did not exist but also had not suffered as Sansa had.

 

Next to him, Stannis heard Jon ask a few other questions after that, but his mind and body too exhausted, Stannis barely heard them. Only a few more minutes passed as he felt his body slack into a chair.

 

=

 

It was only the next day (-or, more precisely, later the same day-) when he woke up after only a couple hours sleep, that Stannis took any real notice for anyone that wasn’t Sansa: he knew he should feel guilty about basically forgetting about all the men who had helped him find Sansa but he couldn’t _not_ put her at the front of his mind.

Taking a proper look at Jon sitting the seat next to him (and, an hour or so later, Davos) he noticed that like him, they both had a few wounds and scars from the night; - but thankfully Davos’ less than savoury past as well as Jon’s training at Castle Black Security had been more than useful.

Jon had also informed him that a few of the other men were gravely injured – from bullet wounds mainly - but no causalities on their side. On the other hand, for Bolton’s men, apart from the barely recognisable Ramsay Bolton there had been two deaths, as for the rest, they were either in the hospital as well (on a different floor to Sansa with police guards) or in Sow’s Horn prison.

 

As for the person ever at the front of his mind: it was noon, when Jon (and Stannis, who was sticking to him like glue to receive any news at the same time) was informed that after being in the ICU overnight and most of the morning, his cousin had been moved to a patient room, and that they were finally allowed to see her.

From the moment he came into the room, seeing Sansa - _his Sansa_ \- lying in the bed, as fragile and unaware as Shireen’s porcelain dolls, but marred by large bruise marks visible against her pale skin, head and arm partially covered with bandages and plasters, tubes and machines surrounding her, their noises the only thing breaking the stillness surrounding her, Stannis felt his whole world shift once more.

He had always hated hospitals: the sterile nature of it, the inhumane aspect it needed to take care of its patients, its hidden truths... His grandmother had died in one... his parents hadn’t made it to the emergency room after their car crash, but Robert and him had still been required to come to identify their bodies... for all her love for her _Red God_ , convinced ‘ _He would save her_ ’, Selyse had also died in a hospital... - In all that knowledge and need to save lives, hospitals were surrounded by people suffering and dying...

No matter what the masters and nurses had assured them, not matter that she already looked much better than she had when he had last seen her being whisked away on a gurney towards the Surgery Gallery, Stannis vowed then and there he would not leave her side, he would not lose her as well... And with that Stannis became her vigil, staying by her bed, looking over as she recovered. He would get the occasional news from Jon or Davos as well as being brought food or drink, but no matter what, he refused to leave her side.

 

=

 

Although Sow’s Horn was not a large city (– especially compared to Kings Landing –) and the number of renowned doctors and surgeons in their hospital was next to nil, Stannis soon found there were a few advantages to it, and mainly not being in the capital. Firstly, whatever Jon or Davos had said to the hospital staff, Stannis was certain that they had been easier to convince that Stannis could stay by Sansa’s side, than if they had been ain Kings Landing; especially since he wasn’t actually her family... - _not yet, any way_.

The hospital had also been more ‘ _accommodating’_ (- or, at least, less difficult -) when one of the first people Jon contacted was his great-uncle, the legendary Maester Aemon Targaryen, wanting him to have a look at her chart and to make sure Sansa had the best care possible (- blast caring if he hurt the surgeon’s feelings by getting a second opinion!)

 

Another advantage to being in Sow’s Horn and not Kings Landing was the fact that it took a while longer before everyone started accosting them for answers and information on what _‘in the seven hells was going on?’_ \- Only Mr. Luwin and Miss Ygritte Spear had come to the hospital first thing the next day, when Sansa had still been in the ICU.

Of course once they had started coming it had been like a dam breaking, neither Jon or Davos nor himself able to stop the flow of them:

With both Jon and Khal Drogo having actually been part of the incident at the cottage, it wasn’t long before Danaerys Targaryen-Drogo bust into the hospital, demanding to see her husband and nephew!

Only a few hours later, Mrs Targaryen-Drogo still there, this time accompanied with the professor Ms Missandei Naathali, the rest of the Targayern family came: father, step-mother, half-brother and half-sister with husband... – There was a sudden, quite palpable moment of tension when Rhaegar Targaryen essentially accused Stannis and Davos of intentionally putting his son in danger, before both Jon and the man’s sister had explained what had been going for the last few days and who exactly was lying in the hospital bed.

All too soon Renly, joined by his Tyrell ‘friend’, as well as Elia Targaryen’s brothers also came, much to Stannis’ irritation (- _this is a hospital not a freaking circus_!-) to visit ‘Alayne’ to be also explained that she was actually Sansa Stark, Jon’s cousin, but thankfully not all the details of the last few days or even last few years.

The worse, however, was on the evening of the third day of Stannis refusing to leave Sansa’s side: Samwell Tarly had brought his mother to see Sansa earlier that day; Jon had returned to Kings Landing on his fiancée and family’s insistence, Davos was at the hotel in the centre of Sow’s Horn as was Luwin... Stannis had felt himself dosing off when all hell broke loose: still in crutches and probably having no idea that there existed a town called ‘Sow’s Horn’ until being informed his brother was there, it did take Robert an extra day to Renly, before bursting in like he owned the building, bellowing to the whole floor where his ‘ _Gods-for-saken brother was_?!’ and ‘ _Who the fuck dared to shoot a Baratheon?!_ ’

Of course after exchanging a few words, first with the medical staff and then with Stannis, and then Robert seeing Sansa Stark resting in the hospital bed, the words quickly changed to demanding ‘ _Why? - How? - When_ _had_ ’ Stannis ‘ _started fucking Ned’s little girl_?!’ and ‘ _why the fuck was she in a coma_?!’

It didn’t help that the next morning, Miss Shae Killi came, face mixed of anger and worry, and demanding to see ‘ _Alayne Stone_ ’, threatening anyone in her way, all the whilst dragging a quite bewildered Tyrion Lannister behind her...

 

=

 

It was now the sixth day of staying, sleeping, eating (... not showering, only rinsing and changing his clothes daily in the en-suite bathroom) by Sansa’s side.

By now half her room seemed to have been invaded by flowers, ‘ _Get Well_ ’ cards and other gifts. Stannis had only registered that the Hour of the Wolf had begun when the appropriate cards for the celebration as well as stuffed direwolves had also started covering the tables and walls. Several, including Jon’s family as well as Sansa’s professor and ‘ex-cleaning-employers’ would come visit every day... Jon stayed during the whole of the days but his fiancée forced him to come back to their apartment at nights... Robert had already been asked to leave – _quite forcefully_ (even if he was in crutches) – by the hospital’s security, when his older brother had made everything about him once more: Robert had unfortunately been at the hospital at the same time as Rhaegar Targaryen and had soon realised that during Stannis’ stay in Kings Lading the previous week he had been in contact with Targaryen Corporation and ‘ _had the audacity to work with those dragon fucks!_ ’ and ‘ _eat in their lair!_ ’

 

It was mid morning, Jon dozing in one of the chairs whilst, Stannis was reading the latest _Financial Times_ to Sansa, when the serenity was interrupted by a soft voice calling from the door:

_“Daddy?”_

Even if he was obliviously hearing things, Stannis’ head snapped from the report to the room’s entrance. He felt his heart nearly stops when his gaze _did_ find someone there: meeting dark blue eyes so like his own but on a younger more worried face, looking hesitant from the doorway: _Shireen_.

He hadn’t even realised that he said her name out loud until a small, yet still very much uncertain, smile appeared on his daughter’s face as well as the tension her shoulder dropping ever so slightly.

However it was clear that her concerns had not fully lifted, as her eyes went from him to the bed back to him and once more back to the bed; - Stannis could imagine rather well how his dishevelled state as well as him sitting next to a patient still covered in bandages, with a few bruises still visible did nothing to alleviate Shireen’s troubled mind.

All this was whilst his own thoughts were whirling in his muddled head, the reality of situation coming to him: his daughter was here in Sow’s Horn Hospital, where Sansa was...

 

Slowly, hesitantly – actually even losing some balance from being in the same position for several hours – Stannis stood up from his chair. Throat dry, he came closer to Shireen as she continued to stand by the door, holding her hands together in front of her, clearly even more worried that she was intruding in some way.

“Shireen...”

Upon calling her name, her eyes shifted from the bed to her father once more, the smile returning tentatively: “Dad...”

He moved close to her, but unsure of how to greet her, he stopped himself before he made to move his arms around her, becoming not only very conscious of the way he looked (and possibly also smelt) but that this was actually the first time he had seen his daughter in over a week – _check that,_ _two weeks_ \- and he hadn’t spoken to her since last Monday, before... before _all this_ had happened...

What could he possibly say? How could he possibly explain to his seven year old daughter what had happened? Where he had been? Who Sansa was? ...

However his daughter thankfully saved him some of the trouble, explaining to some extent her presence here, in front of him: “- I... Uncle Davos brought me to come visit you and your friend. – He said that you have been watching over her until she gets better.”

With a small nod, Stannis gruffly answered: “Yes. I... My... f-friend was hurt recently, rather badly; I had to make sure she was alright and that she was taken care of by the best maesters.”

At his explanation, Shireen craned her neck slightly clearly trying to look past Stannis. Following her, Stannis turned to face the bed and the rest of the room, noticing at the same time that Jon had awoken in his chair, looking between father and daughter. - Although Shireen gave Jon a glance and cautious smile, her eyes soon returned to Sansa’s sleeping form on the bed.

Seeing it futile to ignore her curiosity, Stannis brought his hand to the back of her shoulder, and with delicateness he didn’t know he possessed, Stannis urged Shireen forward: “Shireen... I would like you to meet a person very dear to me: ... this...” - unfortunately, upon reaching the corner of the bed, he lost his nerve at last minute and indicated Jon: “... this is Jon Targaryen, we used to work together.”

Shireen gave another polite smile to Jon, slightly larger than the last, before calling on her manners and greeted him shyly: “Hello Mr Targaryen, I am Shireen.”

“Hello Shireen... You are welcome to call me Jon – My father is Mr Targaryen.”

At the comment, Shireen frowned slightly, as if remembering something, and blurted out: “My uncle doesn’t like Targaryens...” before quickly realising her blunder. She blushed as she quickly added as means of an apology: “... but you seem rather nice. In any case, my father always says to ‘ _never base your judgement on someone else’s opinion_ ’.”

At the statement, there was a faint twitch of Jon’s upper lip, his grey eyes flicking to Stannis’ but the younger man made no comment. As for Stannis, he wasn’t sure how to proceed or what to say, his mind having slightly blanked. Shireen made the decision for him in the end as her interest - and gaze - returned to the main occupant of the space: _Sansa_.

Seeing no other reason to postpone the inevitable, Stannis shifted once more before bringing Shireen closer to the head of the bed. Ever so lightly placing his (slightly shaking) hand on Sansa’s, his heart beating faster, his voice hoarse: “... and this... this is Sansa.”

Moving ever so slightly closer to both Sansa and Stannis, Shireen looked closer at the sleeping woman without actually invading the space surrounding her, as if afraid to disturb it somehow. There was a small moment of silence before his daughter finally spoke her voice just above a whisper: “Uncle Davos told me she was sleeping.”

Stannis felt his own throat tightened further: “Yes – she has had a very difficult last few days... _years_... and her body needs the rest.”

Looking from Sansa up at Stannis, her eyes wide as if he had all the answers, she then asked: “Will she wake up soon?”

The hand by his side clenched, as hope and pain rushed through him. After closing his eyes briefly his own eyes broke from his daughters to Sansa, his other hand lightly moved over her soft, fragile knuckles, his voice ever so rough: “I hope so.”

There was a long silence after that, Stannis unable to meet his daughter’s eye or break his contact with Sansa.

 

He wasn’t sure how long they all stayed quickly like this, a torment of many very different emotions running through Stannis; the stillness continued and dragged on until the small shadow on his side moved. At the shift, the trance Stannis was falling under was at long last broken...

Looking to his daughter and her move, Stannis followed her new point of interest: the door. His mood as well as face darkened as Stannis noticed the person standing there: Davos. Unlike Shireen moments, Davos’ posture was not cautious or uncertain; - _no_ , it was relieved... possibly _pleased_ even.

Knowing that if he properly met his friend’s gaze now, a lot of his emotions from the past week would most likely burst to the surface, Stannis quickly looked down to his daughter instead, calling her attention:

“ _Shireen_... would like to get a hot chocolate with Jon at the cafeteria? – Uncle Renly seemed to rave wildly about it earlier this week.”

Thankfully the suggestion seemed to please his daughter as her eyes lit up going from Stannis to Jon and back again, a small smile forming: “Yes, that sounds nice.”

Wanting to make clear to Jon that he would want quite a while with his ‘ _friend_ ’, Stannis added: “Great and you can tell Jon all about your latest book on the ‘ _Dance of Dragons_. – I am sure you will have a lot to talk about as it is about his ancestors.”

The comment struck true as his daughter’s eyes turned once more to the young man, this time full of wonder: “ _Really_?”

Clearly understanding Stannis’ intentions, Jon quickly rose to his feet and lead Shireen towards the hallway, all the while starting to talk about Lucerys Velaryon or some other prince from the Dragon Age.

 

 

Once he was sure the door was closed, Stannis wasted no time showing his displeasure – _no_ , his _fury_ – at his ‘ _friend’_ of over fifteen year, voice tight, nearly a bark:

“I can’t believe you brought my daughter _here_! In a _hospital_!” He couldn’t even mention Sansa, instead he pushed his comment further: “- A _hospital_ is not a place for a child!”

Davos did not back down, though, instead he let a growl-hiss of his own: “I _had_ to Stannis! – _You_ forced me to: Shireen hadn’t talked to you for the last _nine_ days, Stannis! She kept on asking Marya and then me _where_ you were? What had happened to you? And you refused to leave Miss Stark’s side! – What was I supposed to do?!”

“Sansa needs me!”

“Maybe she does maybe, she doesn’t; – Miss Stark has her cousin, Mr Luwin... as well as _all_ the other people that seem to have gone attached to her” his arms gesturing the many gifts and card in the room “- But _your_ daughter needs _you_!”

“And she has me! She knows she will always have me: Shireen isn’t stupid, she knows she will not only always have me but you and Marya and the boys... even Renly... and Robert.”

His voice was almost pitting when Davos next spoke: “And who looks out for you, Stannis?”

“You”, Stannis said bluntly, the answer obvious, “you always have my back now matter how much of an utter stubborn ass I sometimes become...”

Stannis could see Davos ready to reply but he didn’t let him continue: “But Sansa... who _exactly_ does _she_ have? - A sister and two brothers that only the Gods know where and she hasn’t seen since she was sixteen? A cousin she met for the first and only time a week ago – same goes for his family? A hand full of employers who only knew her as their cleaner?... and _me_ – a over-worked, irritable widower with a child...?”

There was a small pause before Stannis fell into his chair with a sigh as the pain took over once more: “She was ready to die Davos – _die_. That means there was a clear part of her that didn’t believe there was anything to fight for, to live for... She has been abandoned most of her life... half of her family is dead, the other half vanished... her trust has been abused more often than not... even by me: I was an ass to her... a royal prick.”

He could feel his hands shaking as her placed his head in them, covering his eyes.

Davos’ voice, this time calmer, calm through the fog: “She was ready to die to protect those she cared about: her brothers, Luwin, Jon... even you, Stannis. She refused to say your name...”

Stannis scoffed, not even bothering to lift his head: “She only used me to taunt him. - She taunted him, angered him because she was more than ready to be killed by that monster...”

There was the briefest of pauses, Stannis slumping further: “But, that doesn’t matter right now, I don’t care about me right now; she is what matters. - I just want her to wake up Davos. I don’t care if she hates me, doesn’t want us to be together but I can’t bear the thought of her _not_ waking up, or waking and no one being by her side... that I am not by her side; – her believing she has no one truly there for her... I want to make sure she knows that she will be safe, that there are people who really care about her, that she can have a family – a real family – if she chooses to...”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been plaguing me for the last week, never seemed right, so I apologise it for the possibly abrupt end (or if disappointed by some bits of it) but couldn't figure out where else to cut.


	39. Chapter 38 - ... just voices

 

 

_Silence_...

 

_Darkness_...

 

Silence and darkness.

 

They seemed her constant companions for what seemed like several lifetimes. They surrounded her for as long as she could remember back...

 

... and then, suddenly, they weren’t.

 

Or at least they weren’t as pronounced: faint lights and colours made brief appearances, as well as whispers and echoes.

However, as time passed, where the light only stayed dimmed, the noises didn’t continue to mute in the background. Instead they grew _louder_ and _louder_. – Yes, there was definitely no more _silence_. Noise was everywhere: – things beeping, things rolling against shard surfaces, things opening and closing, things shifting ... and voices. _Voices_ ; - there were so many voices - _too many_ voices.

Too many for her to hear what all they were saying...

Too many to understand what was going on...

Too many to give her any peace and quiet. – Weren’t the heavens supposed to be peaceful?

Maybe she had been brought to the Seven Hells? - She _had_ murdered someone. She remembered at least doing _that_ ; it had been self-defence, but then again it had been _murder_ : shot to the head, death most likely in that first second of impact.

 

But she didn’t want think about _that_ incident.

Nor did she want to be constantly disturbed by all those voices: could they not all go somewhere else?! She had a motherf***er of a headache!

 

At least some of them were somewhat calm, pleasant even, one even had a deep beautiful male melody to it that made her think it should definitely be the voice of a singer...

But some of the others were _harsher_ , slightly brutal, a gloom surrounding them; - _despair_ even sometimes appearing in their voices... or even worse: _anger_. A few times, she was sure there had been some kind of verbal battle between some of the voices – mostly male voices... _men_ ( _sigh_ )...

She cared even less for those who talked about blood, broken bones, death, pain...

A few of the voices came back... and kept on coming back. They were definitely rather insistent when they talked to her (- _not much for manners, clearly_ -) telling her to wake up, to get better, in addition to say they were thinking of her, praying for her, making her want to reassure these voices, tell them everything was _fine_.

Thankfully, for a bit of diversity, there were also some giving her the latest news or their thoughts on a particular subject... or just talk to her – or really, _at_ her.

The latest – _newest_ \- one had been that of a younger, sweater voice from most of the others, telling her about dragons; she liked that one.

 

However, the one she seemed to have the most reaction to, or at least her body had the most reaction to and seemed to like the most, wasn’t actually the most pleasant one; – if anything it was one that was maybe a bit too deep, too gravely for her melodious ears. To make matters ‘ _worse_ ’, it wasn’t one of the cheerful ones, telling her about the latest gossip, but was the one the most full of despair and pain. Nevertheless, there was, without the shadow of a doubt, _something_ in this voice that her mind and body found most _reassuring_ ; - the solemn tone constantly surrounding her made her feel... _safe_... _safe_ and _comforted_.

– Even if most of the time he spoke he would _demanding_ , quite persistently, for her to wake up (– she had had half a mind to snap at him telling him she didn’t take to kindly to be bossed around! -) ... or reading some kind of financial nonsense to her or arguing with another voice (usually another male voice).

 

Unfortunately by now she had gotten used to _that_ voice. - _Too used_ to it, clearly, because now, for some strange reason it was not by her side anymore, and she did not like it. Nope, not one bit. It had been constantly by her side and now it wasn’t; - she felt alone... no longer protected.

She could still perceive a few faint sounds and a few flickers of light, but it felt like silence and darkness were thinking of coming back and becoming her main companions once more. Unfortunately she didn’t like that idea as much as she had previously done, especially since her headache had for the most part gone away.-

 

\- “ _Gods..._ ”

\- She felt her body jolt at the exasperated whispered word and long elongated sigh at her side. Her body had not only reacted to the unexpectedness to its manifestation (– usually there were soft mummers preceding the voices, announcing them in a way -) but also to the fact that there was also something... _familiar_ to about this voice. It hadn’t been one of the previous voices that had been surrounding her lately, she was certain of that. But, she had definitely heard it before, that she was also as positive about. However, before she could give it any more thought, the voice continued, giving her mind not reprieve, not knowing the reaction it had had on her whole being:

“... I thought he would _never_ leave.”

 

Now was the pause she had wanted a few seconds ago, this time leaving her wondering more on the meaning of the words spoken rather than the source: _who had left? Who had they left? Why did they leave_? _Where did they go_?...

The silence continued as the words suspended above her, making her mind go frantic... – _Great_! The headache was back!

 

“He’s a keeper that one.”

_Arrgghh_...

She wanted to groan. _This_ voice was starting to get on her nerves, saying these strange cryptic words and then shut up for a good five minutes... - _or had it been more than five minutes?... maybe it was less_?... _Gods I really have lost sense of time_... _as well as lost sense of other things_...

“He seems a little crazy and intense but the good kind... our kind of crazy-scary...”-

\- _Ahh, the voice was speaking once more, deigning with its presence once more._.. _well maybe you should listen... I am listening – sush! Listen – fine!_ ”

“... and good kind of intense: ‘ _Ready to go to the ends of the world to make sure you are alright’_ Intense, – not ‘ _Stalk you to the ends of the world to make your life a living hell’_ Intense. And very vigilant: no one gets past him; I had to pretend _twice_ to be a nurse to get in your room and check on you. So yeah: _intense_ , _scary_ but _good_ intense-scary – not like Ramsay... – Then again Ramsay had known how to play his many roles very well.

But don’t worry: I checked this new beau out for you – only the best for my big sis’. He has a good steady job and seems quite good at it from what others say about him, quite a bit of money in savings and in investments, has a big (-but kind of ugly... well not _ugly_ , but bleak and colourless -) property in Dragonstone, as well as a kind of castle he is to inherit when his older bro croaks (-most likely from over indulgence in his many vices -) – so he is not in desperate need for our family money or properties. He has no secret wife or girlfriend on the side... doesn’t seem to have had one since his wife passed away a few years back – so, also clear on that front. He has a kid, though, but you might already know that – she seems... _nice_. Sweet, maybe a little too shy but definitely nice. And from what I remember you always liked kids, even wanted loads of your own – so that’s good, I guess.

He needs to find better material to read to you rather than the financial times, though. More than once I was tempted to tell him your preference for Northern Tales, like the ones Old Nan used to tell us.

And, his brothers seem a bit much. - A similar intensity to him, I guess – especially the older one: can’t believe dad used to know him, let alone be friends with him; I swear they are total opposites. Then again, dad seemed have quite diverse groups of friends, very mix and matched. Plus, he did tend to try and find the best in everyone.

His friend, the one with the grey beard, is nearly as intense but at least is there to keep the big guy in check not torment him like his brothers seem to prone to do.

But don’t you worry, if he steps one toe out of line with you, it won’t be grey beard that will be putting him in check, it will be _me_. - I am more than ready to tear him limb from limb, just like I did Ramsay, if he hurts you in anyway.”

There was a small pause at the last words ending with a soft but definite growl, the voice seeming to make a point that her threat was far from idle.

 

However, when the voice spoke once more, it tone had changed, no more cockiness, no more aggressive edge, but instead sounding _sorrowful_ this time:

“I... I’m sorry I didn’t get there in time Sansa. I tried, I really _tried_. – I had seen them, I had been keeping an - albeit distant - eye on them, but look where it got you... I noticed Ramsay and his men one day... just in the streets of Braavos: him and two of his men, _laughing_ at something. Laughing whilst you were somewhere out there not living the life you should be living, should be enjoying. No, as an alternative, you were _hiding_.

I followed them to some seedy brothel, watched as he asked for a _red-head_ – I wanted to kill him then and there Sansa... But I couldn’t... I... Not only did I have no plan but I had another... _job_ – I had a job to do... besides I couldn’t: I wasn’t _allowed_. The people I work for they know about my past. They have spent so long making me try to forget it, cut any part of it... But I couldn’t forget it... forget you... forget Bran and Rickon... Dad, Mom, Robb, Winterfell, Old Nan, Micken... they are all still in me... I swear those calls we would make every once in a while were sometimes the only thing keeping me sane, reminding me of all I was... all I still am...

Anyway... after my... _job_ , it took me a few hours after that to find him again. – I only kept an eye out, nothing more, but it was better than nothing. Every time I saw him, and not you there with him, reassured me, even if I also couldn’t help but imagine what kind of life you were living somewhere else...

Then a week ago, I had just gone to check on them when coming upon on Ramsay and his merry-fucks, I noticed them all being _agitated_... greatly agitated... and _excited_. That was when I _knew_ \- even before I received your text – I _knew_ he had found you; - one of his goons somewhere had found you... and now _he_ was coming for you...

You had been so careful San... even I didn’t know where you were – mind you, I tried _not_ to know, in case one day the agency would need you found, as well as worried that it could possibly help Ramsay and the others: I didn’t want to uncover hidden links or routes to you to then make it easier for others to also find you...

... but he still found you.

And I was nearly too late. I followed them as fast as I possibly could, I really did San... but I had also to make sure my work didn’t realise what I was doing at the same time – who knows what they would have done, if they knew what was going on. I’m pretty sure they are more than pissed off with me right now... Unsanctioned kill, going _rogue_ and all that; - I’m going to have hell to pay when I get back to the office... but that’s my problem (- my problem for another day).

At least, I arrived before it was really too late. And... I’m not a hundred percent proud of it but I did _enjoy_ killing him: watching the life go out of him... give him some of the pain he had given you and others before you.

He is _gone_ , Sansa. Gone _forever_ – I made sure he will never hurt you again as well as promise I won’t let another fucker hurt you again.”

 

Then there was a pause. At the last statement - the iron declaration - she barely heard the warning that accompanied it for any future foes. No, instead she felt a huge weight she hadn’t realised was there, inside her, be removed and with it so many things went through her body: she felt like she could laugh, scream, cry... let out a huge hoarse yell from the back of her throat as if exorcised from her own personal demon.

And then there was calmness. Not silence: some of the previous beeping surrounding her the last few days seemed to have gotten slightly energetic, going faster, louder before calming down again, but she barely paid it any mind; - no _calmness_ , a new tranquillity surrounding her. She could only feel this sense of peace wash through her now, as if it was something she had been searching for, for ages, without realising it for it.

She let out a long sigh...

And another one...

 

“Bran and Rickon are in the North, Sansa.”

Her throat hitched at the statement, some of the calm disturbed. But the voice continued:

“... Ramsay hadn’t found them. To be honest it wasn’t all that easy for me to find them; they were well hidden, first beyond the Wall and then, now, on Skagos. – You were definitely much harder to track... (- then again I hadn’t been actively looking for you)...

Bran and Rickon are going to need you... you are going to need each other. Even that new cousin of ours seems in need of our family as you all will be in need of him. He seems like father – a bit _too much_ like father: good intensions and clearly a good honourable heart but maybe a tad naive. I would say that at least he has his family to look out for him, but he seems to be in an eternal want- _no_ , in an eternal _search_ for a missing part of him. – I guess we are all searching for it, for _something_.

You and I are searching for what we have lost: our innocence, but at least we know we will never find it. The Gods know we have had the time to face the fact that we will never find it and go on without it. Unfortunately for _Cousin Jon_ , he is searching for something else – I’m scared what will happen if he doesn’t get it from you, Bran and Rickon...”

There was a pause, before the voice then added:

“... I am also scared what will happen to _you_ , Sansa. – Yes, like me, you have realised your innocence can never come back, but you have been running for so long. Not only from Ramsay, but running from _everything_ , – scared you are going to lose everything in the process... I know because I was the same, but in being forced to lose everything, I actually found myself...

...It’s time for you to find yourself, Sansa... it’s time to realise that it’s by running that you are losing all those things you can have...

_Wake up_ , Sansa... it’s time to wake up.

And don’t worry: I’ll be looking out for you. – That’s what family does. That’s what a pack does.”

And then there was silence once more.

 

 

It felt like no time had passed between the voice’s last words and her body moving – _really_ moving. It shifted, tingled to her extremities... there was a sudden sharp pain that ran through the whole of her body before it dimmed, unfortunately not as much as before: the headache was back, as well as a soft pain in one of her shoulders, in several of her joints, another in her ribs, even her ear and neck itched...

... She felt her face form a disapproving scowl as she continued this silent assessment of her body, making her regret moving at all as well as miss her previous (small in comparison) frustration of the voices and noises.

Then, as if having run out of other things to do or think about, she felt her eyelids shift, adjusting to this alteration of her being...

... Finally she seemed to have enough strength for the heavy lids finally flustered somewhat, and then she blinked slowly, disoriented.

After a few more tries she was finally able to open her eyes fully without her headache increasing too much. Thankfully the room was darker than she had believed. Eyes going automatically to the main source of light, her gaze was drawn to the window. Its curtains were open, displaying a pallet of dark blues, reds and oranges in the sky, rising to a new day, the sun not yet visible behind the buildings in the distance... - _or is it the end of the day_?

The trivial question however was soon replaced by another thought: thoughts of the voice had had just been talking to her. Blinking a few more times, she looked around the room but no one seemed to be there; – the voice was gone, no one in the room but her.

But she barely had time to give pause to the missing voice – to the missing woman (she was sure it had been a woman’s voice) - because there was another voice – a much hoarser one, a much more _male_ one – who spoke from the doorway:

“ _Sansa_?”

At the calling, her head automatically turned to look who had called out: a man frozen in his step.

Her own heart stopped on seeing him.

He was tall, definitely taller than most, _larger_ than most: broad shouldered and muscular, in addition to the height. But it was his face that she was enthralled by: his eyes were sunk in deep pits, his close-cropped beard no more than a shadow across his cheeks and jaw. Yet there was power in his stare, an iron ferocity*... one she knew she had seen before, one she felt haunted by, one she felt possessed by...

 

... one she felt protected and safe in; more safe and protected than she had felt in years.

 

 

= = =

 

 

To say that he was in a state of shock was an understatement; – _a great big understatement_. His heart had stopped, before it had started hammering like a mad man against his ribcage, trying to get out, his hands had started to sweat, whilst being half aware that his legs and feet had started tingling in a similar way to when a limb unintentionally falls asleep whilst of the body is still fully awake.

For a few seconds Stannis in fact thought he _was_ dreaming... _hallucinating_.

But _no_ , he wasn’t: there had been an undeniable shift in the bed, her head had definitely moved, so did her eyes – they had most assuredly blinked _several_ times... before they had turned and landed on him.

His throat hitched, drying up instantly as her stunning light blue eyes met his own ones.

For a split second – a horrifying second - he wondered, his heart twisting at the thought, that she might not remember him, not remember any of their time together... but then, tears clearly forming at the corner of her eyes, she said a single word in a soft whisper, her throat sounding dry:

“... _Stannis_.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * - Inspired/taken from quote in A Dance with Dragons:
> 
> ‘ _His eyes were sunk in deep pits, his close-cropped beard no more than a shadow across his hollow cheeks and bony jawbone. Yet there was power in his stare, an iron ferocity that told Ahs this man would never, ever turn back from his course_.’ – Asha Greyjoy


	40. Chapter 39 - ... just a new beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Epilogue)

 

 

Stannis liked to believe his life could be mostly sectioned in two parts: ‘ _Before Sansa_ ’ and ‘ _After Sansa_ ’.

‘ _Before Sansa_ ’, if someone would have ever asked him (not they ever did), Stannis would have said he had one main torment in his life: his _brothers_ (- mainly Robert).

And, although Stannis could not deny that his life had greatly improved in the last three years, he also believed that ‘ _After Sansa_ ’, he now had _two_ main sources of torment in this otherwise satisfactory life: his brothers (still mainly Robert) and _Sansa_.

 

Maybe with regards to Renly, Stannis was being a little harsh. Then again, his younger brother’s over-exuberant, over-the-top reaction to most things, as well as his constant need for gossip and to meddle in Stannis’ life was just _too_ much ... In any case, Renly’s continuous over-fraternization with the Tyrells was also a definite point against his dear younger brother.

 

As for Robert... well Robert was just simply _Robert_. There was no other truer way to describe his older brother than the use of his name. - Stannis was not at all proud of it, but Sansa and him had actually started to use his older brother’s name as an adjective when describing one of them having done something rather foolish and/or excessive. Still the chosen wording seemed most apt when thinking of certain situations in the last couple of years that definitely had not improved Stannis’ opinion of his older brother...

... Namely:

The fact that Robert had, at the time of the _Week of Hell_ , taken upon himself to not only inform to the press that the heiress ‘ _Sansa Stark_ ’ was back in Westeros and that her psychotic husband had been murdered under questionable circumstances, but Robert had also let slip that not only Stannis and Sansa were an item but a Baratheon-Stark Wedding was finally going to happen! – All this days after Sansa actually woke up!... _Ages_ before the mention of wedding bells should have been brought up!... (- Although Stannis had to acknowledge that he had definitely not wanted to wait _too_ long before mentioning a possible... _legal_ _merger_ between Sansa and himself).

Even after the whole mess at the hospital cleared (and the whole incident of nearly punching Rhaegar Targaryen in the face whilst Sansa had still been unconscious was for the most part forgotten) as well as the media storm Robert had created for them with ‘Sansa Stark’s reappearance to the world, Robert seemed oblivious to the extra trouble he was causing, as well as how much he was butting in and/or complicating Stannis and Sansa’s lives.

This of course included quite a few moments where it nearly cost Baratheon Industries quite important clients, usually linked in some way to either Targaryen Corp or Sunspear Corporation. There was also an incident where Robert was found drunk, practically naked with the maid of honour in the bridal suite (actually consummating their one night stand on the rose petals covering the king size bed), at a client’s son’s wedding; – another mess Stannis ended up sorting out for his older brother (another few days spent away from Sansa).

In these three years, there were also several unfortunately rather memorable ‘ _older brother talks_ ’ where Robert would proceed to try and give Stannis ‘ _advise’_ on his growing relationship with ‘ _a gorgeous woman that Robert still didn’t understand why she was still with his boring brother’_. Such ‘brotherly guidance’ included Robert being convinced that Sansa’s relationship with her cousin was _very questionable_ \- much _too_ close for anyone related to each other - and that Stannis should keep an eye on those ‘ _incestuous Targaryen fucks’_. – Stannis had not felt right to reveal to his older brother that, for the extent of one evening, he had also had _his_ doubts as to the nature of the relationship between Sansa and Jon Targaryen.

It was actually quite interesting to see Robert’s array of reactions, depending on his mood, every time he _would_ actually meet Jon. Sansa’s cousin would either be Robert’s ‘ _favourite’_ or ‘ _least-favourite’_ (- or really ‘ _least hated’_ or ‘ _most hated_ ’, excluding Rhaegar, who was in a whole special brand of hatred of his own-) Targaryen depending on the fact that Robert was seeing Jon as Lyanna’s son, or as Rhaegar’s son that that ‘ _Targaryen fuck’_ had ‘ _stolen’_ from him!

And there had also been the incident before Stannis’ wedding, where Robert stormed fuming into Stannis’ office, not even bothering to close the door (- allowing the whole floor to be privy to his fury -), and proceeded to below furiously that Stannis had ‘ _betrayed him!_ ’: not only had Robert found out that he would not be Stannis’ best-man but he had also been informed that the whole of the Targaryen family had been invited to Stannis’ wedding!... – It didn’t matter that Jon was Sansa’s cousin and had actually been an important part in finding Sansa and Sansa’s recovery, as well as Stannis actually having a better relationship with not only Jon but also Rhaegar and Danaerys than he did Robert (-not that Stannis would ever tell his older brother the second part: – Stannis was not a _moron_... or suicidal.)

However, as much as all these events (-as well as many others-) exasperated Stannis till near-boiling-point, he couldn’t find it in him to actually strangle his older brother (- or at least, not _too_ much-) as it _was_ through Robert’s inappropriate ‘ _gift’_ that Stannis _had_ met Sansa: his older brother was actually the reason Stannis had ever met Sansa... something Sansa, and even Davos, occasionally reminded him of. – Not that Stannis would ever reveal this to Robert (and thankfully Renly had forgotten the mention of such a connection at that first dinner party): Stan might be a changed man but he hadn't lost his sanity and was still perceptive enough to not let his older brother have that kind of knowledge and power over him...

... Stannis was however quite generous in his wedding gift (with Sansa) to Miss Shae Killi – even though she _did_ marry a _Lannister_ \- as she had been the other part to the reason Sansa had come that first night to Stannis’ Penthouse door.

 

As for Sansa... don’t get him wrong, Stannis knew she was not only the love of his life but also the best thing that ever happened to him. Stannis was more than proud to be with her (– as well as sometimes, _secretly_ , he wondered why the Seven Hells she was still with him). Nevertheless, there were a few times were Stannis could have sworn Sansa had been sent by all the different Gods to test not only his patience and general composure but also his actual _sanity_.

Stannis could obviously not put the blame of the torment of those days searching for her as well as that whole week not leaving her side begging for her to wake up, on Sansa... or at least not fully (- though, to be honest, if she had confided in him about her bat-shit crazy husband, then she wouldn’t have nearly died and created this unnecessary continual agony for him).

However Sansa unwillingness to be a good patient, once she had woken, and to stay in her bed and rest, had sometimes been quite _frustrating_. Not to mention when she had actually had the audacity to grumble at Stannis for being ‘ _overbearing_ ’ when he insisted she could not move from her bed until the say-so from the maester, or when he commented on the fact that there were _too_ many people visiting her at once... There had also been the one incident where she yelled at him!; accused him for becoming too ‘caveman-y’ (- _which was not even a word_ -) when Stannis had innocently suggested that _he_ could give Sansa her sponge-bath instead of the (- _rather too good-looking_ -) possibly overworked male nurse, Daemon Sand.

At least Sansa hadn’t protested too much when he had been adamant that she stay at Dragonstone with Shireen and him as she continued to recover, all the while keeping her away her from the whole media frenzy from her ‘ _reappearance_ ’, as well as the whole investigation and trial that followed her kidnapping and Ramsay Bolton’s death.

 

Unfortunately, once the whole Stark-Bolton fiasco was over, and Sansa was back on her own two feet, there were definite moments where Stannis just did not understand the female mind – Sansa’s specifically - actually _worked_... (-and seemed intent of him having a heart attack quite early in his life). These included:

For some reason, Sansa had the same urge as his younger brother to befriend the Tyrells... as well as visit the Martell-Targaryen family in Dorne a bit too many times for Stannis’ liking...

... And even make friends with a _Lannister_ \- albeit a small one.

Sansa had actually been able to convince Stannis to go to Tyrion Lannister’s wedding to Miss Shae Killi; - though in the end, Stannis found he hadn’t minded so much, not only because of Ms Killi’s role in Stannis meeting Sansa but also for just on the knowledge that Tywin Lannister was livid about the whole union.

Of course, for at that wedding, as well as her cousin’s wedding to Miss Ygritte Spear, Sansa had tortured Stannis some more: by deciding to wear ridiculously tight dresses (-way to revealing in Stannis’ opinion). To which, Stannis had then spent most of the time scowling at any men (- and a few Dornish women that had been invited to Jon Targaryen’s wedding -) who spent too long looking in Sansa’s direction... or who had actually dared to touch Sansa (- like Oberyn Martell had done for a second time!... as well as pinch Stannis’ ass!)...

... It had definitely been worse at Lannister-Killi Wedding though, with Sansa thinking it a great idea to inform Stannis that she hadn’t thought it a good idea to wear underwear under her dress as she had been ‘ _afraid the line of it would show  through the dress and possibly add extra wrinkles_ ’, just before the ceremony was about to start.

 

There had also been the period, two years ago, when it had also taken quite a lot of persuading (- and Sansa using a few some less-than-honourable methods to help convince Stannis- ) before they had finally travelled to Winterfell and sorted out through all Sansa had inherited from her first marriage. – Thankfully Stannis had at least convinced Sansa to let Davos take care of Bolton’s secluded cabin in the Wolfswood.

It had also taken some time before Stannis thought Sansa ready to start working and start looking over Stark Industries, and had tried to make her see reason that she still needed more time recovering (- to which Sansa might have told Stannis to go shove a certain something in a part of his anatomy).

There were a few things Stannis had to acknowledge he couldn’t technically blame Sansa for. No more than Stannis could be blamed for Robert’s actions; Sansa could not be blamed for her brother’s actions. But she could have at least _warned_ him of her youngest brother’s wild temperamental nature... and the fact that he might be over-interested in Stannis’ only daughter!

The rest of her family didn’t help calm his nerves either; especially when a week before _their_ wedding, Sansa thinking it best that they should really tell each other everything before saying their vows, had then proceeded to inform him that not only she knew where her younger sister was, but that they were still in frequent contact... Oh, and her sister was a contract killer and she had been the one to kill (- _dismember_ -) Sansa’s first husband. – All Sansa had to say to all _that_ was: “... _but don’t worry honey, she mainly works in Essos... In any case Arya has already done a background check on you and you passed with flying colours. Nothing to worry about at all._ ” – Stannis still had dreams now of some smaller, female version of Jon Targaryen bursting in his office and cutting his head off (- or another part of his anatomy -) if he so much as yelled once to Sansa... or said he didn’t like her lemon cakes...

There was of course also Sansa’s hold of Shireen (- his daughter having instantly fallen in love with Sansa, and the feeling being thankfully just as quickly mutual on Sansa's end -) which sometimes went over-the-top, especially when they started ganging up on him! (- Shireen should take his side! He was her actual father!) These moments included a rather odd Saturday afternoon, where Stannis came home from a business trip to find a hug Northern Malamute puppy slobbering on his favourite leather sofa. It had then lead to Sansa, Shireen and this beast giving him sad pleading puppy-eyes (- that all three seeming to perfect this look more and more as time goes by -), with both women telling him all the reasons why they _should_ keep such a great big flee ball in his house... (– as well as Sansa using other means of persuasion – _or was it thanks, by then_? – later that evening, in their bedroom.)

 

 

All these thoughts were going through Stannis’ mind, as well as him reminding himself how much he loved and cherished Sansa, as he paced the length of his office, phone in hand...

That fact that Stannis was pacing and might be _ever so_ _slightly_ tense, was not actually to do with the fact that Robert had decided to come to work today and be present for the BI meeting with Targaryen Corp that was supposed to start in ten minutes, but for the most part for the fact that Sansa was past eight months pregnant with twins – his twins-, and should be resting at home but instead had apparently left the house without informing anyone (- mainly him or Davos-) of where she was going!

... So yes... here he was: waiting for Sansa to pick up... or for Davos to come in through the doorway with news of where his (- sometimes slightly unhinged -) wife _was_.

 

\- There was a soft click from the phone – _finally_!

_“Stannis? Everything ok?... don’t you have that important meeting with Dany and Rhaegar today?”_

 

_-Yes I do, but my wife is adamant in giving me a stroke before I turn forty_!

 

Trying to keep some calmness in his voice, Stannis replied: “Sansa, _darling_... everything here is _fine_. The meeting is in ten minutes... I just wanted to talk with my wife, who I love and adore; a few minutes beforehand... of course when I called the house, and no one answered, I got a little concerned.”

_“Oh Stannis, don’t worry: I got a call from Shae a while ago, and we decided to meet at one of the lovely cafes on the Blackwater Bay waterfront.”_

Stannis felt his jaw clench and his heart finally started to work again (- _just breathe_ -): “That sounds... _hum,_ _lovely_ Sansa, but don’t you think you should go back to the house and not move around too much? – The maester did say that-“

There was a certain harsh snap in Sansa’s voice as she decided to _actually_ interrupt him: _“-Oh Stannis, I know exactly what the maester said, I was there in the room with you for every check-up, remember! It’s not like you could forget the huge pregnant woman during the gynaecology visit! As for what he said: the babies should not due for another week! And that I could continue to be an **active** human being, even if I was married to a control-freak_!”

Teeth grinding slightly: “Sansa... you shouldn’t excite yourself too much: it’s not good for the babies-“ 

\- “ _Oh Shut. UP Stannis! You are the one over-exciting me_!”

Closing his eyes, Stannis rubbed his temple, calling all of the patience available to his body, though his teeth would not de-clench: “Sansa, I am _only_ merely _suggesting_ that you should try and stay as relaxed as possible. – Like maybe driving around and going to meet friends in some cafe, instead of in the safety of your home, might not be the best for the babies-“

_“-Argghhh, Stannis, We. Have. Through. This: I couldn’t stay in that bloody house a bloody minute longer! ... And –Oh Great! Now look what you have done: I’ve peed on myself! Great! Thanks a lot!_ ”

Stannis veins went ice cold, as his grip on the phone tightened, his voice ever so panicked: “What do you mean you peed on yourself Sansa?!”

There was several huffs and then a bit of sounds of shuffling on the other end before Stannis could hear slightly away from the phone some mumbling and a few curses... and then finally, with a few huffs, Sansa spoke through the phone:

“ _Umm... Stannis... my water just broke.”_

Stannis blanched further: “Tell me exactly where you are, Sansa!”

_"Well right now, Shae and I are moving steadily to my car...”_

“WHAT!!! CAR?! YOUR CAR?! SANSA, DONT YOU DARE DRIVE THAT CAR TO THE HOPSITAL! STAY PUT, I AM COMING TO GET YOU!! -“

_“-Oh Don’t worry, Stannis, the contractions haven’t started yet. In any case, Shae is going to be doing the driving.-“_

_“-_ DAMN IT WOMAN! – Every time you do this I swear I lose ten years! - If you weren’t having my children right now, I would tie you to the bed and make sure you never leave our house!-”

_“_ _\- Oh! Stop being so bloody cave-man-ish Stannis!_ _– Just get your ass to the hospital... See you soon, Honey, and remember that I love you.”-_

\- and then she hung up! On him!

 

=

 

 

Barely two seconds after Sansa had dared hang up on him, Stannis was running from his office to the elevators, as he called Davos, informing him that he had to get to the hospital (-as well as asking his friend to make sure that the Targaryen meeting be postponed to a later date and _definitely not_ be left in Robert’s less-than-capable, but rather worrying, hands)...

A few minutes later, Stannis realised that it was probably best that he wasn’t the one driving as his body decided that this was a good moment for him to have a small panic attack and started to shake all over...

Thankfully it only took another forty minutes or so for him to calm down as they drove through the most of the city... to arrive at the hospital... To run to the front desk and demand (his voice maybe a bit raised) which room ‘ _Sansa Baratheon_ ’ was in?!... To then find his wife in a bed looking as calm as ever, rolling her eyes at him...

 

... Of course neither Sansa’s serenity nor her smile actually stayed when the contractions started coming at closer frequency... To which she then proceed to start growling-yelling at the maester and nurse to give her more drugs!... and then started to crush Stannis’ hand with her own... and scream at him that would she would never have sex with him ever again!

Gratefully as well as joyfully, after (- a very long gruelling-) six hours, Stannis was presented with two more beautiful daughters (- where he might have proceeded to shed a few tears, all the while lost for words -): _Cateryn Baratheon_ , who had her mother’s hair but his darker blue eyes, and _Cassandra Baratheon_ , who had Stannis’ dark hair but lighter Tully-blue eyes...

 

Of course the moment had to be ruined an hour after their birth, when Robert had come to meet his new nieces and upon seeing them gave Stannis a great big slap on the back and chortled rather loudly (- _the_ _babies had just gone to sleep_!-):

“HA! By the Seven, Stannis!... Who would have thought you would be the one surrounded by so many gorgeous women!... Just think of all the boys that will bang at your door when these two are old enough to start dating!”

Making Stannis loose what little blood he had regained, thinking young versions of Robert, Rhaegar Targayen, Oberyn Martell, and Jaime Lannister in some kind of orgy, surrounding two younger versions of Sansa, with respectively red and black hair, acting not too different from how sometimes Sansa acted with him when they were alone...

... and he then proceeded to lose consciousness.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I really hope this last chapter lives up to people's hopes/expectations I would also like to thank all readers who have left kudos as well as comments on this fic, as well as the constant praises and support you gave, all the while being very patient with me (sorry it too so long to write/finish)...
> 
> A Thousand Thanks,  
> xxx  
> S&R


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